


Silver Moon

by JBankai89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Harry, Bottom Draco, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Fluffy Ending, Harry raises Teddy, M/M, Mild Blood and Gore, Slightly Dark Harry, Slow Burn, Soulmate elements, Top Harry, Violence, Werewolf Harry, Werewolves, dubcon, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: Five years after the war, peace has fallen upon the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy has begun to find peace in the strangest of places, and now as a junior Potions Master after a mere four years, he finds his mind quieted from the horrors that scar his world in the deep and dark of the forests, where he goes to collect ingredients his master requires.Unfortunately, one trek into the woods brings him close to werewolf territory, too close, in fact, and he finds himself captured. He expected to be devoured by these brigands, but the truth of his fate turns out to be far more confusing and terrifying than he ever imagined.





	1. Grave Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I can't seem to escape werewolf fics XD this one will be a lot shorter than my Lunaticus series, about 12 chapters or so, and approaches Lycanthropy with a slightly darker edge to it. I hope you guys enjoy it! I am hoping to have the next chapter out next week, but no promises, because I just started school and so my posting schedule is a bit all over the place at the moment. Those of you who follow my other works know that when I say a week, it's rare that I miss my deadlines, but again, we shall see.

Silver Moon

Chapter One – Grave Mistake

Unlike many of his peers following the war, Draco Malfoy had never felt lost, and instead went straight to work with a burning determination that he had never felt before. He knew what he had to do now, and he would be _damned_ if he would let it slip through his fingers.

Help people— _save_ people, like Potter always had, and use his gifts to do it. Draco would show the wizarding world once and for all that he was _not_ the man that everyone had painted him as. He was not his father, and despite the horrific brand upon his arm, he was _not_ a Death Eater.

  
He was, in fact, out in the field when it happened—when his life was irrevocably changed by one foolish, ridiculous mistake.

Being an assistant to a Potions Master was in actual fact a synonym for slave, as far as Draco was concerned. _Get this, carry that, pick this, forage that—make drinks_. It was maddening, but good experience.

But _maddening_.

It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon in June, and Draco had been in the woods for less than an hour, circling the tall, thick trees as he searched for herbs, flowers, and other plants needed for his Master. Already his satchel was full to bursting with carefully wrapped cuttings of snapdragons, cowslip, skullcap, dittany, and foxglove, along with a sackful of stunned black beetles.

This work was of the kind that a younger Draco would have scoffed at. The current Draco, now twenty-three, smirked to himself as he imagined his eleven-year-old self baying at how such work was _servant's work_ , and not for the hands of one of his bloodline.

How wrong he was.

The work, he found, of digging through the earth for truffles, of picking agaric mushrooms with his dragonhide gloves, or sneaking up on unsuspecting unicorns for its hair, it was dirty work, but it was also _honest_ work. There was something freeing in the simple act of it all, and Draco found that he _loved_ it.

That was, until today.

  
Draco's day, which had started so nicely, with blackberry jam and crumpets, along with a good pot of tea, and continued in the woods, peaceful and stress-free, it all changed when Draco crossed to the next tree over, and a strange, ammonia scent tickled his nose.

In hindsight, Draco knew that he should have paid closer attention to it, but at the time he'd assumed he'd crossed the path of a dead squirrel or rat. He should have noted the way the scent seemed to enclose a particular part of the woods, and he should have been more in-tune with his magic, and been more aware of the feeling of soft tickling, like butterfly wings across his skin, indicating that he had inadvertently crossed into a place where he ought not be.

All of these things Draco should have realized, but his head was too full, too fixated, upon a small growth of deer's tongue, the fuchsia flowers very rare in this part of the world, and terribly expensive.

Had he not been distracted by the flora, perhaps he may have heard them coming.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed him from behind, and Draco cried out in surprise as his bag went flying, scattering the day's foraging everywhere. He whipped out his wand and turned sharply, intending to _show_ this assailant just _who_ he was trying to mess with when his wand was yanked unceremoniously from his hand, and snapped like kindling before his eyes.

“Well, well, well...what have we here?” purred the woman who stood before him, dressed in tatty jeans that seemed to have not been washed in a few weeks, at least, and something akin to a sports bra, but seemingly made out of animal skins. Her exposed belly was flat but shapely with muscle, and each twitch of her arms displayed her physical strength without effort. Draco's eyes went higher, and he saw a heart-shaped face framed by wild, curly auburn hair and fierce blue eyes, and pupils ringed with gold— _werewolf_.

 _I'm in werewolf territory,_ Draco thought as he mentally kicked himself. How could he have been so _stupid_?

“Little lamb stumbled in all on his own,” sing-songed the man at his back, while he twisted both of Draco's arms behind his back, and pinned them there with a single strong hand. It hurt, but Draco tried to keep from flinching. “Should we take him to Alpha? He knows this one, doesn't he?”

“I think so,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face. “Alpha hates talking about his life before The Bite, best not ask that particular question, I think.”

“Right,” the man said, and Draco felt him nod. “Come on then, boy, time to find out why most humans aren't foolish enough to wander into werewolf territory— _especially_ ours.”

“I didn't,” Draco protested, his voice even and cool despite his fear. He secretly suspected that struggling would be playing right into their hands, but he couldn't _not_ say something to the brute who currently held him captive. “It was an accident.”

“Right,” he said sarcastically while he snorted, “you just stumbled in by mistake.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco replied with a hiss, “just let me go. I'll tell no one where you are, I'm just a humble assistant to a Potions Master—”

“—if a Malfoy is anything, the last thing they would be is _humble_ ,” the woman sneered, and Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised that she'd recognized him. “Oh, yes, I know all about your wretched family. Anti-Werewolf _monsters_ going back generations. Your family has slaughtered more of my kind than the other way around. If you think we intend to let you go, you must be _completely_ mad.”

“I am _not_ my family,” Draco growled as he was dragged through the trees and farther west, away from his collected cuttings and the remnants of his broken wand, and deeper into werewolf territory. “I am trying to make amends for all the wickedness my family has been known for. You would know this if you weren't hidden away like...like...”

“Like _what_ , boy?” she growled, and Draco's feeble courage failed him.

“Nothing,” he muttered as he straightened his back and fell into step with the man leading him. The farther they got, the more certain Draco was that he might not be going back, and he'd be _damned_ if he would face death like a snivelling little coward.

  
“Get Alpha,” the woman barked at someone the moment the trio broke through the last of the trees and stepped into a large clearing. “We have an intruder.”

Draco squirmed in the hold, and he was answered with a low, warning growl. Though it had passed through the lips of someone who was human in shape, the sound was completely lupine, and elicited a shiver of fear before Draco could stop it.

“Fear not, little princeling,” taunted the werewolf that held him following his faint shift of movement, “Alpha will know what to do with you.”

 _Alpha_.

Draco knew that they meant their alpha male of their pack, though he had no idea who it could be. His recent forest treks had always skirted close to werewolf territory—it was impossible to enter any wooded area these days without coming near to them, given how many had been turned during the war—but he'd kept tabs on where Greyback was, and avoided his territory like the plague.

This particular territory was mid-sized, with about twenty adults milling about, and a handful of children darting in and out of the caves that had been carved into the side of the mountain that they stood near, and they were encircled by evergreens, pine trees, and spruces. It was not natural English forest, that was certain, and reminded Draco more of a boreal forest than anything else.

Out of the largest cave cut into the centre of the mountain stepped a short, stocky man. The man was barefoot, wearing old, tattered jeans and a loose shirt of raw cotton, but open at the neck to reveal a built chest covered in wiry hair, with a young cub scampering at his heels like an excited puppy.

Draco swallowed thickly, caught somewhere between shock and fear. The way the other werewolves regarded him made it clear that this man was most certainly the alpha, but at the same time, he was not the person Draco had expected to see, and had almost not recognized him without the presence of his glasses. As he got closer, Draco felt his prickle of fear inch closer to panic, and he struggled to keep his expression blank and fearless.

“Potter,” Draco addressed him as he stopped in front of Draco, and the former Chosen One's eyes narrowed.

“Alpha,” Potter corrected with a grunt, and narrowed his eyes. Draco rotated his shoulders, doing his best to mask his fear, but it seemed foolish when these creatures could likely smell it coming off him in waves. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” Draco replied, and Potter raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. The cub at his side, barely five or six by the look of him, popped his thumb into his mouth and reached for Potter, but he shook the cub off roughly. The little boy did not appear upset by this silent reprimand, and instead took a small step back, but his eyes were still fixed upon Potter with a look of deep adoration and respect. Potter ignored the child as he stepped forward, and Draco inhaled sharply when strong fingers grasped his chin, and his nose tickled along the side of Draco's throat.

“Hmm...you stink of fear, Malfoy...what are you hiding?” Potter asked, his voice close to a purr as he lifted his gaze, his nose a hairsbreadth from Draco's, and the werewolf's lips quirked into a small smirk, an expression that did not befit the Harry Potter that Draco thought he had known.

“I'm hiding nothing,” Draco replied, his voice shaking much more than he would have liked as he answered. “I was walking, and I inadvertently overstepped the boundaries of your...home.”

“Indeed,” Potter replied, and moved to scent him again, making Draco shudder.

 _No sudden movements,_ he thought to himself, _Potter is more animal than man now. One wrong move, one wrong word, and I will be devoured._

“Rolf, Nadine,” Potter said suddenly, addressing the two wolves holding him, “take the human to my cave. Do not bind him, but guard the entrance, and do not let him leave. It's about time this pack had an Alpha Bitch.”

“Yay!” cried the little boy suddenly, who threw his arms in the air and shook his head, changing the dark, unruly locks upon his head to a silvery, platinum blond. “New friends!”

Draco, on the other hand, was not so cheered by the words _Alpha Bitch_. What exactly did Potter plan to do with him?

“Potter?” Draco asked, his voice escaping him as more of a squeak, and none of the venom that he'd intended.

“That's _Alpha_ to you, Bitch,” growled one of the men as he began to drag him away, “know your place.”

“Potter!” Draco cried, beginning to fight against the man, his heart in his throat as his panic began to mount, “ _Potter_! You can't do this! You _can't_ keep me here, people will look for me! Potter! _Potter_!”

Potter ignored him completely, while the little boy, his thumb back in his mouth, scampered after his alpha dutifully. Draco felt positively sickened by the sight; what had happened to the so-called _Boy Who Lived_ to make him so cold? How could he justify turning a child so young? What on earth had _happened_?

Draco was tossed unceremoniously into the cavern, and he fell with a soft grunt, the rocky floor scraping his palms when he landed.

Draco looked up and found the cave to be sparsely decorated with two piles of furs—one man-sized, and one big enough for the child he'd seen, the latter topped with a tattered, plush bear. Two oil lamps sat alongside the furs, and there was a small stack of water-stained books, mostly for children, but with a few muggle novels mixed in as well.

The final thing in the space was a tangled pile of clothing, a mixture of children's garments and ones for adults, but otherwise the cave was bare.

Draco could not bring himself to sit on Potter's furs, or the boy's, and instead sat in the centre of the space, his knees drawn to his chest as he tried to bring himself to calm, with little success.

So Potter was alive. That was news to him.

Draco stood up abruptly and brushed his palms against his shirt, making them sting. They were skinned, not bleeding, but he had a feeling that these brutes could probably smell his blood anyway. He wrinkled his nose at that as he began to pace, and glared at the shoulders of his guards, wondering if it was worth the effort to try and pass them, or bide his time.

“Don't try it, Bitch,” the man said suddenly, as though he'd read Draco's mind, “we take the commands of our Alpha very seriously, and I will hobble you with my bare hands before I let you escape.”

Alarmed, Draco took a step back and glared at the shadows of the two guards outside the mouth of the cave.

“You can't keep me here,” Draco retorted with a bravery that he did not feel, “someone will come looking.”

“Keep telling yourself that, pet.”

The mocking tone of the man's voice made Draco's chest feel tight, and he wondered if the man knew, or if he was just saying that to hurt him.

Because the truth was, no one _would_ come looking for him.

With his father in prison, his mother deceased, and his friends either out of the country, dead, or imprisoned, he was well and truly alone.

Draco began to pace again, his heart thrumming in his chest, while he tried to wrap his head around everything, including the elephant in the room.

Or werewolf in the room, as the case may be.

Draco dimly recalled the obituary from four years prior. He'd been nineteen at the time, and the 'obituary' in question had taken up _The Daily Prophet's_ entire front page, and four subsequent pages of the tragic demise of the Saviour of the Wizarding World, and his precious little godson.

No details had been given as to Potter's cause of death, and Draco had been unable to attend the funeral, given that he was busy weaseling his way out of a prison sentence alongside his father at the time.

But apparently Potter isn't quite dead, Draco mused as he paced, _and that little boy must be his godson. Who were his parents, then? Are they dead?_

Suddenly, a horrifying memory floated to the surface of his mind, and all Draco could hear was the voice of the Dark Lord in his head.

“ _I am talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin...”_

 _That's right,_ Draco thought as he froze in mid-step, _Aunt Andromeda's daughter, and Lupin. He must be their son...my cousin, then._

The thought did not cheer Draco in the least—why would Potter damn someone to this life who may as well be his own son? It didn't make any sense.

A soft sound of footfalls approached the cavern, and Draco stiffened. He glanced over to the mouth of the cave, and saw Potter approaching, loping forward like his wolf alter-ego, with the little godson toddling along behind him, his thumb still in his mouth.

Potter stopped by the entrance, and glanced to each of the guards. They hurried off without a word, and then Potter turned to the child and crouched down before him.

“Teddy, go stay with Amelia and the other pack kids for a bit, okay?” Potter said, and the child's eyes glossed over, as though Potter had announced that he was abandoning the child.

“B-but, Alpha,” he protested weakly, “I want to meet the Bith too!”

“Bitch,” he corrected, “and you will, little one. I need to speak to him first. He is skittish as a fawn, and I don't want him hurting you by accident.”

“But you said that Rolf broke his bad stick...is he still dange'rus?”

“Ah, I have known this Bitch for a long time, Ted, and he can be as dangerous with his words as with his wizard magic. Go now, no more arguments, and you can meet him later, yeah?”

The cub, apparently called Ted (or Teddy, Draco wasn't certain) lurched forward to hug Potter, and turned his gaze to Draco. He offered Draco a sunny smile before he darted off, and ran for a female wolf on the other side of the clearing, while Potter stood slowly, and he fixed his gaze on Draco silently.

Draco felt frozen under the intensity of that stare, so unlike the bumbling, perpetually perplexed, but brave to the point of stupid boy he'd known in his youth. Draco swallowed thickly, and foolishly, took a small step back.

With a snarl, Potter closed the distance between them at a frightening speed. Draco screamed, but none too surprisingly, no one came to his aid as he scrambled backward until his back slammed into the cave wall, and Potter pinned him there with ease.

That nose pressed to Draco's throat again, and his breath caught as he froze under the werewolf.

“You're afraid,” Potter rumbled, his voice thick and little more than a growl as his left arm dropped to Draco's waist and drew him uncomfortably close.

“Are you shocked by this, Potter?” Draco hissed snidely, his voice shaking as he spoke, “you're pawing at me like a beast, _smelling me_ , you call me your bitch in front of your little pack, and refuse to let me go home. Do I have any reason to _not_ be afraid?”

“I'd never hurt you,” Potter replied, his voice still thick, “you're mine, just as Teddy is mine. I _cannot_ hurt you.”

“Why don't I find that particularly comforting?” Draco asked rhetorically, and pressed his hands to Potter's chest. “Let me _go_.”

Potter growled again, and Draco gasped sharply as the werewolf caught one of Draco's wrists in his hands. Another growl, and he glared at Draco's palm as though he'd been personally offended by it.

“You're hurt,” he said, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“One of your _dogs_ knocked me down when I was dumped in here,” Draco replied, “it's hardly a scratch, Potter, nothing to write home about.”

“I'll _kill_ them,” Potter snarled angrily. “They hurt you, I'll—”

“Potter, _enough_!” Draco yelled, and his voice was so loud and so sharp that Potter's mouth snapped shut in surprise as he stared at Draco with wide eyes. “By all that is holy, it's barely a scuff mark. What on earth is _wrong_ with you? I'm not your toy, your kept boy, or your _bitch_. Stop this, right now. I don't give a dragon's tit why you abandoned your friends, turned your godson, and faked your death, all right? I don't care. I just want to go home.”

“This is your home now,” Potter replied, apparently unfazed by Draco's speech. “You're mine. I can _smell_ that you're mine.”

“I am no one's property, Potter, and certainly not _yours_.”

“Oh, but you _are_ ,” Potter purred, his voice adopting an amused lilt as he spoke that did not sit well with Draco. “A werewolf knows his mate by scent, and once he finds the one for them, there is no stopping it. I accepted my...accident almost at once, you know. I remember seeing how bad it was for Remus, and I promised to never put myself through that—for Teddy. I learned all I could about werewolf life, and I disconnected from society. I took in wolves who were abandoned—who had no place to go, and I now have my own little pack who are as devoted to me as I am to them. We're a family, and we will die for each other without question. That is a family that now includes you.”

Potter stepped back from him at last, and Draco crossed his arms over his chest, acutely aware of the way Potter's eyes roved over him with unabashed want. After a long moment, Potter finally glanced away, and headed for the mouth of the cave. When his hand fell to the stony lip, he turned back to Draco, the faintest of smirks toying at the corners of his mouth again.

“Oh, and for the record, I didn't turn Teddy,” Potter said as he lifted his left arm and shook down the sleeve of his shirt to expose his forearm where a narrow, v-shaped scar stood out pearly white against his tan skin. “He turned me.”

Potter did not wait to see the effect these words would have on his hostage, but instead turned and sauntered out of the cave without looking back.


	2. Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: **Trigger Warning:** Since the initial posting, a dubcon tag has been added. This chapter also contains scenes of sexual harassment and assault. I was reluctant to use the Rape/Noncon Archive tag because I felt that that would exaggerate its presence in this story, but if anyone feels I was too light-handed with the tagging please let me know and I will fix it.
> 
> For the foreseeable future my update day is moved to Thursdays, so the next update will be February 1st.

Chapter Two – Alpha

 

The werewolves known as Rolf and Nadine were tasked to keep an eye on Draco while Potter went to do whatever it was that pack alphas needed to do, and Draco was left alone to brood.

Draco had anticipated hours of solitude, save for his guards, who did not speak to him, but instead he was left to his own devices for barely an hour before the soft pitter-patter of feet drew Draco from his thoughts, and he saw a messy dark head trotting towards him, little Teddy Lupin—his cousin. The young boy was toddling towards him with a plate too big for him in his arms, and a water skin dangling from one of the beltloops of his tattered corduroys.

“Alpha told me to bring this to you,” Teddy said proudly as he held up the large wooden plate, adorned with some sort of spit-roasted meat, mushrooms, and potatoes. “We don't eat like this, but Alpha said your tummy isn't as tough as ours, so you need special food.”

_Special food for your pet human,_ Draco thought with disgust as he moved to turn away from the little boy.

“I'm not hungry,” he said, and he watched Teddy's expression fall a little out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes you are!” Teddy protested, “Alpha _made_ this for you, you _have_ to eat it!”

“I don't have to do _anything_ ,” he groused, “please...leave me alone.”

“Maybe you'll be hungry later?” Teddy asked, his voice dropping in volume to something not unlike a puppy who had been scolded. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“I am _not_ grumpy,” Draco protested hotly, “I would never be something so uncouth as _grumpy_. I am _upset._ Your—your _Alpha_ laid claim on me like I was a piece of meat. How could I not be upset?”

For a moment, Draco had quite forgotten that he was speaking to a child, and Teddy cocked his head with confusion.

“But...claim is how you get stuff you want,” Teddy said, his eyes shining a little with curiosity and confusion. “Why is that bad? Alpha told me that you are his, he said that you're his...his...half. Or something. I don't understand it all 'cos I'm a kid, and Alpha thinks I should worry about playing, not about grown-up things. But I'm not _even_ the baby! That's Karl and Kayla. They're twins, even though they don't look the same. They're this many—” Teddy held up two fingers on his left hand and his thumb, “—so they're littlest. Alpha told me twins happen when one baby gets cut in half in the tummy, and one time in my storybooks they tried to do that to a _real_ baby! This bad man called King Salmon almost did it, 'cos some bad people was fighting over a baby.”

Draco stared, having quite forgotten the boy's original point with his tangent. Teddy looked quite proud of himself however, and crawled into Draco's lap as he finished speaking, while Draco instinctively wrapped his arms around Teddy's waist to stop him from possibly toppling over.

“How come you're so grumpy?” Teddy asked again, leaning in so close that their noses were almost touching. “Alpha said he knew you... _before_. Were you not friends? You didn't seem very happy to see him. Are you just like Old Cheng? He's grumpy _all_ the time.”

“Calling your elders _old_ is rude,” Draco replied on reflex before he could stop himself.

“It is?” Teddy blinked owlishly at him. “Old Cheng tells everyone to call him Old Cheng. He said it's a sign of...of...something. I can't 'member.”

“Respect?” Draco offered, and Teddy cheered, though given that the tot was perched in his lap, Draco was subject to the child screeching in his ear at the same volume as a banshee's battle cry.

“That's the word! Alpha Bith is so _smart!_ ”

“Draco,” Draco corrected, his cheeks flushing pink at the humiliating title, “ _please_ do not call me Bitch. I am _no one's_ bitch.”

“Danko,” Teddy said, and Draco choked.

“ _Draco,_ with an R.”

“Drinko,” Teddy tried again, but this time Draco caught the faintest shadow of a smile on the boy's face—the little brat was mispronouncing his name on _purpose_.

_I'd expect no less from the spawn of a Gryffindor and an accident-prone half-blood Hufflepuff,_ Draco thought, and bit back a chuckle before it slipped out. He'd be damned if he'd find any real amusement in his prison.

Smirking a little, Draco reached out and lightly flicked the tip of Teddy's nose, making him giggle.

“I got a smile!” Teddy cheered, “Draco-Alpha smiled for me!”

Teddy leapt up and raced from the cave, apparently eager to tell his friends the big news, and was gone before Draco could even begin to try and stop him.

“You looked good with a cub in your arms,” a deep voice remarked suddenly, and Draco's gaze jerked up to see Potter leaning against the opening of the cave, eyeing Draco with an unnerving, hungry look in his eyes.

“Stay away from me, Potter, I mean it,” Draco said in what he hoped was a menacing tone, but Potter did not appear at all intimidated by him. Instead, Potter pushed off the rock and entered the cavern, his nostrils flaring slightly, clearly smelling him— _again_.

“Why would I _want_ to stay away from my mate?” Potter asked as he approached, his shoulders thrown back in a display of pure, unhindered confidence, and he offered Draco a smirk. Draco, in contrast, inched back from him. This new, confident, and _scary_ version of Potter was well beyond difficult to deal with, and even harder to predict—Draco did not like it at all.

“I am _not_ your mate,” Draco replied angrily, “I don't give a flying fuck what you _think_ I am to you, but you know what _I_ feel when you get close? Nausea.”

“That's not very nice.”

“It wasn't supposed to be nice,” Draco retorted, inching back again when Potter got closer, and crouched down in front of him. The alpha's gaze flitted briefly to the untouched platter, then back to Draco's face.

“You still smell scared,” he remarked, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“And I am amazed that you are still surprised by this, Potter,” Draco replied snidely, and Potter's lip curled back, showing his teeth. “What? Afraid to hear the truth? You are holding me here _against my will_. Of _course_ I will be scared, you oversized fleabag.”

“Werewolves can't get fleas,” Potter pointed out as he inched towards Draco, and Draco responded by shuffling away from him until his back hit the wall of the cave, which turned out to be something of a bad move when Potter swept closer and pinned him there.

“Don't understand,” Potter muttered, his voice more of a growl than anything else as he leant in close and smelled at the side of Draco's neck, just below his ear, making him gasp and shiver. “I brought you food, but you do not smell happy...”

“Perhaps that is because I am being _held hostage_ by a pack of werewolves,” Draco snarled angrily, and crossed his arms as he glared at Potter, once more masking his fear, despite the futility of it, considering he probably reeked of it to Potter's advanced senses. “Why is that so difficult for you to understand? I was grateful to you winning the war and getting rid of the Dark Lord and everything, but that does not mean you can kidnap me, name me your lover, and expect me to go along with it.”

Instead of speaking or offering up some sort of proper response, Potter growled again, and Draco huffed in annoyance.

“What is it this time, Potter?” he demanded, “still angry that I don't smell like a bed of roses?”

“Call me _Alpha_ ,” Potter commanded, “you have no right to call me by name yet.”

“Make me.”

Potter smirked.

“With pleasure.”

Draco had barely enough time to realize his crass mistake and think, _oh, fuck,_ before he was thrown on his back, and Potter was on him with a dark look in his eyes that Draco had never seen before.

“P-Potter?” Draco squeaked, and Potter's smirk widened.

“ _Alpha_ ,” Potter corrected as he leant in close, and began to scent him again. “I could make it easier, you know...one little nip and you'd be like me—like _us_.” Potter scraped his teeth over the edge of Draco's jaw, and he shivered. “But I won't.”

“W-why?” Draco was breathing hard as though he'd run the length of the Forbidden Forest, and his mind felt hazy with fear. How was it that Potter could create such _terror_ with so few words? Why had the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World become so dark? What on earth had _happened_?

“If I turn you, any wolf with half a brain can challenge me for you,” Potter muttered, his hot breath puffing along the side of Draco's neck as he spoke, almost as though he was trying to stop himself from touching him with more than just his nose. “I don't fancy fighting with my pack over you. Humans are fair game, and once one claims you, that's it. You're mine until I say otherwise.”

“You make it sound like _we're_ the animals,” Draco replied, his heart in his throat when he felt _those teeth_ nip at his throat again.

“Aren't you?” Potter asked, “food chain, Malfoy, we are above the humans. We're stronger, faster—”

“The fact that you devour humans is not what one might call a talking point, Potter,” Draco pointed out, and he felt, rather than heard, Potter growl.

“We don't eat humans,” Potter said, as though he'd been personally offended by Draco's accusation. “They taste bitter, and they're too stringy.”

“And you would know this because...?” Draco asked, arching a brow, but Potter did not answer. Instead, he trailed a hand down Draco's side, and sniffed at him again. The touch was enough to make Draco shiver, and not completely from revulsion—much to his horror. Potter chuckled as he rested his mouth against the bare edge of Draco's collarbone, and offered it a gentle kiss.

“You are so jumpy, Malfoy,” Potter teased as he shifted so that he could gaze down at Draco, and the blond met the werewolf's eyes in challenge. Potter growled again, but Draco refused to look away.

“You know why I'm jumpy, _Potter_ ,” Draco sneered, “Let. Me. Go. I have nothing to gain by telling the wizarding world that you still live, the Malfoy name is scum these days, and no one would believe me even if I tried. You and your little pack will not be threatened by me. I just want to go _home—_ my _real_ home, not this...place.”

“I could give you everything you ever wanted,” Potter insisted, his mouth dropping to Draco's throat again, and he shuddered when he felt Potter's tongue trail along the side of it. “Just give me a chance—give the pack a chance. I can smell that you're meant for me, and I for you.”

“We spent the better part of our youth hating each other,” Draco pointed out, and he felt his face tinge pink when his voice escaped him as a breathless pant. “Excuse me if that fact does not evoke warm and fuzzy feelings for you.”

“Instinct means I don't really care about that so much,” Potter muttered, one hand still trailing up and down Draco's side, as though he was trying to soothe him. “I just know—I _know_ that you're mine, the one for me. I _want you_ , Draco.”

Draco's given name on Potter's lips made him feel uneasy, and he tried to shift away from his former rival (or current rival, he wasn't entirely certain), but Potter's arm at his waist stopped him from getting very far.

“Potter, please,” Draco said, abandoning all faux-bravery pretenses as he gazed up imploringly at him, his eyes wide and plaintive. “ _Please_ just let me go. This is getting out of hand. Can you _really_ keep me prisoner here, against my will, all because I am, as you say, your _mate_? What on earth happened to you? I don't know who you are, because you _can't_ be Potter. Potter was a thickheaded twerp with stupid hair and a hero's complex, but he was never—he could _never_ be this cruel.”

Potter stared at him, his eyes dark with want, and for a moment the words seemed to go right over his head. He blinked, his brain seeming to be processing what Draco had said very slowly before at last he let out a soft, animalistic huff, and finally— _finally_ let Draco go.

Draco scrambled away from the werewolf, his chest heaving while he watched Potter's shoulders slump as he buried his face in his hands. Draco did not try and run from the cavern; there were still nearly two dozen werewolves outside, and without a wand his ability to Apparate was lost to him, and as a result he doubted that he would get very far.

“I'm not Harry Potter,” Potter said, “not anymore—not really. I've been _Alpha_ for four years, and it's hard, but it's worth it, because Teddy is growing up surrounded by a family who adores him, and he has no idea just how terrible wizards can be. This seclusion—it's a blessing, not a curse. I know I'm strong, and I need to be—everyone here...they need protecting.”

“Aside from the kids—”

“—cubs,” Potter corrected, “we're werewolves, not goats.”

“Whatever,” Draco replied as he waved his hand dismissively, and Potter snorted. “Apart from them, how much protecting do werewolves really _need_?”

“This isn't what one might call a _normal_ pack,” Potter replied cryptically.

“Oh because you're so bloody special,” Draco snapped back, and Potter smiled at him.

“Not me, this _pack_ is,” Potter said, and Draco arched an eyebrow, inviting him to explain. “The short version is that everyone in this pack came here because their old pack did not want them. Whether it was an emotional issue, or physical, or something else, they were exiled for stupid, prejudiced reasons. It started with Rolf, and after him the word spread and we've just...grown. Some of the wolves here have special needs to function, and in their old packs they didn't want to have to make allowances for them, so they just... _dumped_ them instead of trying to help them.”

“Some things never change,” Draco shook his head, and Potter smiled warmly at the sneer in his voice. “I was wrong, you're _still_ Saint bloody Potter.”

“And you're _still_ mine, Draco,” Potter added with a small, coy smile. Draco narrowed his eyes as his face flushed red again.

“No, I'm not,” Draco replied. “Is this how you werewolves court one another? A simple _he is mine_ and that's the end of it?”

“I smelt you get aroused when I touched you.”

“I did _no_ such thing!” Draco protested hotly, which only made Potter's smirk spread into a wide grin. “I did _not_ , Potter!”

“Yeah, you did,” Potter replied, his voice dropping once more to a purr as he inched back towards Draco, and the blond immediately pressed himself back hard against the wall. Potter's eyes, once a vibrant emerald were now ringed with gold, and Draco hated how the small addition somehow made them seem even more appealing to gaze upon.

Potter stopped just shy of him, and leant in close. Draco tensed, his breath catching, but Potter did nothing more than ghost his lips over Draco's in a feather-light kiss.

“Eat, little mate,” Potter murmured softly, almost tenderly in a way that Draco's chest feel tight and his head awash with confusion. “I will be back soon.”

Potter kissed him once more before he straightened up and sauntered out of the cave without looking back.

Draco watched him go, his mouth twitched into a frown.

_I feel like I'm being thrown back and forth on some sort of bucking broomstick,_ he thought as he eyed the food curiously, kept hot presumably by some sort of spell. _One second Potter is almost normal, and the next he acts like little more than a single-minded animal. What am I supposed to do?_

Draco's stomach rumbled in answer, and with a resigned sort of sigh, he tugged the wooden platter forward, and began to eat.


	3. Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be Thursday, February 8th. Enjoy!

Chapter Three – Cat and Mouse

 

Draco sat in the cave, his prison, aching all over after spending the night sitting up and refusing point-blank to share Potter's so-called 'bed' with him.

 

_“Come on, Draco,” Potter had grumbled sometime after midnight as he lifted up one of the furs pointedly. “It's expected that the Alpha Bitch will sleep with the Alpha. Get your arse in here.”_

_“I'm sure you especially mean that_ arse _bit,” Draco replied snidely, making Potter growl like an angry dog. “I'm_ not _your bitch, Potter. I won't come anywhere near you of my own free will. Deal with it.”_

At the time, Draco had not cared that little Teddy had been curled up with his little oil lamp ignited, and was watching the entire argument quietly. Now, in the light of day, exhausted and aching all over, Draco could not help but lament quietly on letting the boy see that.

_I won't let Potter win, but I don't want Teddy to see that again. A Malfoy is above many things, but not ruining the childhood of one so young._

Draco almost laughed aloud at the thought— _what utter bollocks. My adolescence was horrific, but perhaps I can do better than Father ever did._

“Draco-Alphaaaa,” a sudden voice whined, and Draco glanced up to see Teddy surrounded by a little group of children, an even mix of boys and girls by the look of it all blocking the mouth of the cave. “Will you come play with us?”

“No,” Draco replied, and crossed his arms.

“I _told_ you!” one of the little girls cried, “now Alpha's mate is all mad, and Alpha will get mad at us!”

“He will _not,_ ” Teddy replied, “I'm Alpha's son, I know he won't be mad. Draco-Alpha is _always_ grumpy.”

Draco's scowl deepened, and the kids giggled.

_Perfect,_ Draco thought sourly, _now I have a pack of sodding_ cubs _following me around like lost puppies_.

“What are you lot doing?” a sudden deep voice asked, and Draco cursed inwardly. They all turned around, and with a number of canine-like yips and cries they all scattered, giggling as Potter halfheartedly chased them away from the cavern's opening. When the last of them had gone, Potter turned to him, his eyes catching him very much in the same way he might eye a prey animal, and Draco felt as though he'd been frozen in place.

“S-stay away,” Draco commanded him, but his shaky voice did not sound very commanding. Potter ignored him and sauntered into the cave, a frown twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You look tired, Draco,” Potter said simply, his tone radiating concern as he crouched before Draco and reached out slowly, his thumb brushing around the edge of his eye. “Did you sleep at _all_ last night?”

“What do you think?” Draco demanded, “I'm being held hostage here, and you all but demanded that I share a bed with you. _No thank you,_ I will not cuddle up with my jailer.”

“I'm not your jailer,” Potter replied as he bared his teeth at Draco, “you're my—”

“—I am _not_ your bloody mate!” Draco snapped. “What will it take to get that through your thick skull? You _kidnapped_ me, Potter. You did not woo me, or endear me to you in any way. You swanned in and laid claim on me like I had no voice of my own. Sorry, princess, that is _not_ how it works.”

“That's how it works for werewolves,” Potter pointed out, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“In case it escaped your notice, Potter, I am not a werewolf, so your silly little rules don't exactly apply to me,” Draco said, grinding his teeth in frustration as he glared at his former schoolmate. Potter frowned and stepped closer. Draco tried to hurry away from him, but his bone-deep exhaustion had made him sluggish, and Potter caught up to him easily.

“Come on then, we'll do this the human way,” he said, though his lip was curled in disgust as he said it. That in itself was perplexing; even Lupin had not hated humans, and it made Draco wonder—not for the first time—just what had happened to change Potter on such a fundamental level. He was not given very much time to contemplate it as Potter reached him and wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, making him shout in protest as Potter hefted him to his feet and walked him to the furs.

Draco struggled weakly, but it was like trying to fight off a bear. Potter was strong—much stronger than he looked—and did not seem to even notice Draco's protests to this turn of events. His heart thrummed in his chest as he panted harshly, but the word _No_ seemed to be stuck somewhere in his throat, and in his confusion, fatigue, and panic, he could not quite voice it.

Much to his surprise, Potter did not toss him down and snuggle up with him like Draco had anticipated.  Instead, Potter eased him down onto his furs—which smelt infuriatingly like him—and sat at his side while his strong, callused fingers carded gently through his hair.

“Rest, Draco,” Potter said gently, but still with a note of command in his voice. “I will protect you while you sleep.”

“You—you can't just _force_ me to sleep,” Draco protested as he sat back up, while his bod fiercely protested the action. Despite outward appearances, the mess of furs was sinfully comfortable, and Draco was fairly certain that there had been a Cushioning Charm or two placed upon them. His stomach roiled with nausea at his lack of sleep, and Potter visibly gritted his teeth at Draco's angry protest.

“I'm _not_ ,” Potter growled, “I am trying to _help_ you, Draco. Just rest, all right? I will make sure no one touches you while you sleep.”

Draco glared at him, but slumped down in the furs at the same time. He could hear the unspoken, _I will make sure no one touches you but me_ statement in the werewolf's voice, but he was simply too tired to fight anymore. Unlike Potter, who could probably go days without food or sleep, if the stories about his childhood had been true, Draco was unused to fighting against such things. With a defeated sigh he rested his head against the bunched up furs that served as a makeshift pillow, and he stared off into space as Potter began to stroke his hair again.

“I'm still not your mate,” Draco said groggily while he stifled a large yawn with his hand. “I'll—I'll escape here. You can't keep me...not a toy...”

Draco's eyes slipped shut, and he knew no more.

~*~

When Draco next woke it was dark out, and he was blessedly alone in the tangle of furs. Potter was curiously missing, and Draco could just make out the silhouette of Teddy curled up on the other side of the cavern. Outside the clearing was devoid of activity—it appeared as though everyone had gone to bed.

_Now's my chance,_ Draco thought as he slipped out of the furs as quietly as he could and stood up. He kept close to the wall, and hoped that in doing so any sentries who might be on watch would not have seen him move.

With his hands pressed to the stone, Draco inched towards the mouth of the cave. As he did so, Teddy whined and stirred, but did not wake. Draco paused at the entryway and peered out, but save for a few normal nightly noises, Draco heard nothing that might indicate anyone else was awake. His eyes darted over the space, observing the other caves cut into the mountainside and the trees that closed the clearing in. Would it be better to run straight across, or circle closer to the edges of the mountain?

_If I get too close to the caves, they'll be able to smell me,_ Draco thought, his eyes darting from one dark cavern to another, _but if I run across, any sentries will see me pretty easily. What is a better option?_

Draco ground his teeth in frustration, silently wishing he had more experience in life-or-death scenarios like this—perhaps then he would know what to do. He huffed a frustrated sigh, and continued to eye the area as he debated silently to himself.

He stood there deliberating for a solid five minutes before he even dared to make a move. In the end, Draco decided that the Gryffindor approach might be best, and after he took a breath to steady himself, he darted across the clearing as fast as his legs would carry him.

Miraculously, no shouts or cries followed Draco's run, and in fact it seemed as though no one had stirred at all. He stopped just beyond the border of trees, panting hard, his heart in his throat, and a small smile of victory twitched at the corners of his mouth.

He'd _done_ it.

Growling.

_Oh, balls._

Resigning himself to the fact that he had been caught almost immediately during his bid for freedom, Draco turned to face the sentry. He staggered back in surprise however when he was not faced with a person, but a huge, bear-sized wolf.

The creature was black as pitch, with glowing green eyes. Its lip was curled back, showing inch-long teeth glistening with saliva as it growled, its shoulders squared as it stared Draco down without fear.

Draco just barely managed to not cry out in shock at the sight, and took a chance, flicking his eyes to the inky sky, but saw only the crescent of the waxing moon above him, and not a moon at full. Draco's gaze snapped back to the wolf, and tried to rationalize what he was seeing—surely it was just a natural wolf?

_No,_ Draco immediately realized, _there are no wolves in Britain, and I am fairly certain that they do not get this big._

The wolf growled again, and stepped a little closer. Its tail was high, its ears pricked, and puffed up as though to say that he was the biggest and the strongest, and that Draco must not challenge him.

Draco glanced quickly at the beast's eyes, then to its fur as he tried to decide what to do. It was thick, but not sleek like some wolves he had seen in pictures and drawings. Its coat was roughened somehow, and almost curly—as though the human form of this werewolf may have had very untidy hair.

_No,_ Draco thought, his eyes widening in realization. _No way. This can't be..._

“Potter?” Draco asked, his voice escaping him as a high squeak, but he was too terrified to try and maintain any semblance of his dignity.

The wolf huffed, and took another purposeful step forward, but Draco did not know if that was a sign of confirmation, or of dominance, or both.

Draco could feel himself trembling, all but frozen as the wolf stepped closer. He was too numb with fright to even contemplate _how_ it was possible that Potter could transform outside of the full moon, and his mind was trained fully upon the fact that there was a fully grown and angry werewolf not five feet from him.

The creature continued its approach, moving slowly, but with purpose. It was quite clear that this thing did not fear much, if anything, and Draco—a slender, disarmed wizard was certainly no threat to him.

“Potter, please,” Draco tried, his voice shaking as he spoke. “A-are you Potter? I—I'm sorry, all right? I-I'll stay, I'll do what you want, just, please, _don't kill me._ ”

His voice stuttered into silence, and the wolf suddenly froze. Its ears flicked back and a it whined, while it inched forward to sniff at Draco. Draco twitched, somewhere between a flinch and trying not to move, and his eyes flew shut as that muzzle came within biting distance of him.

Surprisingly, the next thing that Draco was aware of was not pain, but a large tongue laving across his cheek.

Draco's eyes snapped back open, and he saw that the creature was now sitting before him, its ears back and eyes wide and mournful, with its head ducked a little very much like a scolded puppy—which, on such a large and fierce animal, was a truly strange thing to see.

“Potter?” Draco asked again, uncertainly this time, and the wolf thumped its tail against the grass. He whined again, and licked Draco's cheek. “Why not just change back and talk to me like a normal person?”

Potter's wolf eyes seemed to glimmer with sudden mirth, and following a number of audible, sickening cracks, Draco watched as the wolf shrunk in size, and changed back into the form of Potter— _naked_.

“ _Bloody hell!_ ” Draco cried as he whipped around, while Potter howled with laughter.

“You _did_ ask that I change back,” he teased, and Draco scowled at the tree that he was now facing.

“Put some clothes on!” he demanded without turning back around, and still giggling, Potter complied. Draco heard the distinct mutter of some sort of incantation, followed by the soft rushing noise of clothing flying through the air, before Potter caught them deftly and tugged the garments on.

“Okay, I'm decent,” Potter said, and Draco turned back around to see Potter in the same jeans he'd been wearing for the past two days, and a holey black T-shirt. He looked rather pleased with himself, whereas Draco found he had absolutely no idea where to start in what he could possibly say in such an absurd situation.

“That's better,” Draco finally said stiffly, his arms crossed as he glared at the werewolf. “Why...” Draco paused, his lips twisted into a frown, and he tried again. “How did you do that? The transformation? It's not the full moon.”

“One of the best kept secrets of the werewolves, I suppose,” Potter said with a small, humourless smile. “Sort of like how young witches and wizards need time to learn to control their magic before they can harness it fully, it's similar for werewolves. As we come into our strength we learn to control the wolf, and bring it out when we like, not just on the full moon. Not everyone can, though, there's a fair few in the pack who can only transform on the full moon, and I doubt Remus could do it, he spent his life fighting his wolf, not the other way round.”

“You said...you accepted it,” Draco filled in, and Potter nodded.

“I did,” Potter confirmed as he swept forward, almost close enough to touch as he gazed at Draco with an unreadable expression. He lifted an arm, his fingers freezing mere centimetres from Draco's cheek, and he arched a brow at the blond. “May I?”

“No,” Draco said, but the word escaped him as a whisper, and he tried again. “ _No_. Don't touch me, please.”

Potter's arm fell to his side, and he gazed at Draco with confusion and longing. The look made Draco feel rather ill; why couldn't Potter just let him go _home_?

“I don't...I don't remember what it's like to be human,” Potter said awkwardly, but continued to stare at Draco intently as he spoke. “I mean, not _really_. I know you want me to court you as a human might, with dates, and maybe flowers, and paying for dinner, but I...all I know is the life of the werewolf now. I see what I want, and I need to take it. If I just _ask_ , it's a weakness, one that I can't afford. These people depend on me, and if I am taken down by another werewolf who thinks that I've gone soft...it will spell disaster for the whole pack.”

“Why didn't you tell me all that to begin with, instead of acting like some sort of brute the whole time?” Draco demanded, and Potter snorted.

“Draco, would you have actually listened if I'd done it that way?” Potter asked, his eyebrows raising high as he spoke, and Draco felt his face darken when Potter chuckled.

“Did you give me much reason to?” Draco eventually countered, “you are keeping me _prisoner_ here, Potter. That is not how dating works for any species.”

Potter ducked his head again, but the action seemed to be a struggle, as though it was something that Potter did not often do. When he looked back up his eyes were wide and pleading, the very epitome of the _puppy-dog eyes_ look.

“I'm sorry, Draco,” Potter said, and it sounded as though he truly meant it. “I'll start over—I'll fix things.”

“Will you let me go?”

“No.”

“Then what's the point?” Draco demanded as he frowned at the werewolf. “You _cannot_ keep me here, Potter. It's not right—you _know_ that it is not right.”

“But you're _mine_ ,” Potter protested, his voice laboured with a frustrated snarl, and he closed the distance between them again, his arm wrapped possessively around Draco's waist, pinning him to the alpha wolf's chest.

Not expecting the sudden move Draco stumbled into the embrace with a yelp of surprise, and Potter kissed him fiercely.

Draco froze, and he felt his knees buckle a little under the strength of it. Potter certainly knew how to kiss, and so too did he know how to direct it, but not make Draco feel under his control. It was amazing—not that he was going to tell Potter that. He was his kidnapper, after all, not his friend, and _not_ his lover.

“Mine... _mine_...” Potter panted as he finally broke the kiss. “Please, Draco, please don't run from me. Now that I've found you, I cannot lose you.”

Potter was not a beggar, this Draco knew. He had seen Potter face off with everything, and he did not beg for anything—not food, not his own life, _nothing_.

To hear him now, to hear _Harry Potter_ beg for him to stay, it was unnerving. Draco was finding that he did not know how to react, and stared at Potter, his mouth opening and closing over and over, but no sound came out.

“Potter, I...” Draco trailed off as the pleading look upon the werewolf's face seemed to become more pronounced. He couldn't stay—Potter couldn't _make_ him stay.

“Please, Draco,” Potter murmured, his lips brushing over Draco's in a soft, tender kiss that made him shudder. “Give me a chance—give the _pack_ a chance. We're good people, and we can give you a place here.”

“What if it's a place that I do not want?” Draco asked as he cocked a brow at Potter. “To hide away in your little love nest, playing Happy Families with you and your mutts...” Potter growled at the insult, but Draco ignored it as he pressed on. “Do I really strike you as the type to willingly sleep on the ground, and eat foraged food off sticks, and bend over for some _thing_ like you? I'm a pureblood, Potter, I was raised better than that.”

“You don't know yourself,” Potter countered, his hands moving to rest on Draco's wrists before they slowly trailed up his arms and to his shoulders, then down his back before finally stopping at his waist, and he tugged Draco closer. “I could show you. I _can_ give you everything that you need. I'll even steal a real bed from a village, if that's what you want. I am an alpha, Draco, it's my _job_ to meet the needs of my pack, and that _includes_ yours.”

“Potter, I—I can't,” Draco protested, and he felt his face flush with shame at how _weak_ he sounded. “This isn't my world. I can't stay here. When the moon comes...”

Potter's hot hands travelled back up Draco's body and pressed into his cheeks, stopping his sentence short. Potter was staring at him with an intense, blazing look in his eyes, and it made the rest of the world seem to fall away. It was as though the two of them had been transported to their own little world in an instant.

“You are mine, Draco,” Potter said firmly. “Even if you deny it, my claim of you overshadows that. When we turn, the pack will _know_ that you are the Alpha Bitch, and will respect you, even if you do not change like us. My scent clings to you like a heavy perfume, and they will know that you are pack, and can be trusted. You do not need to fear us.”

“Debatable,” Draco countered as he narrowed his eyes into a halfhearted glare. “You just cornered me as a wolf, and practically ripped me to shreds because I was trying to escape.”

“That was for your own good, Draco.”

“Bollocks,” Draco retorted, and Potter narrowed his eyes a little. “It was because you don't see me as a person, just a _possession._ ”

“You're not,” Potter insisted, his eyes widening a little as he visibly pleaded with Draco. “You're my mate. My partner. I can't own you. I own your affections, that's it.”

“That's not how relationships work, Potter,” Draco said firmly. “You cannot _decide_ that we are together because you have taken a fancy to me, it is a mutual thing. If you court me and I say _no_ , that must be the end of it. It doesn't mean you imprison me in your home and try to _force_ me to like you.”

“But—”

“—No,” Draco interrupted, “you can't do this to me—you _won't._ You _will not_ make me your bitch just because you say so!”

“Would you stop being so damn stubborn?” Potter demanded, “I can give you everything you want or need, Draco! Why won't you listen?”

“Because you _can't_ give me what I want!” Draco yelled back, “you _can't,_ because what I _want_ is to go _home!_ ”

Draco turned and cursed. His voice had wavered at the end, and he felt tears of hopelessness sting his eyes. Without another word pulled himself away from Potter's gentle grasp and he ran for the dark trees while he tried valiantly to ignore the wetness that streaked his cheeks as he went.

“Draco, _wait_!” Potter called, but Draco didn't listen, and kept running.

He might not be able to escape this new, terrifying version of Potter, but he would be damned if he wouldn't try.


	4. Foxfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be February 15th. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Four – Foxfire  
 

Draco could hear Potter calling for him, but he did not stop running.

Trees leapt out at him in the dark; he staggered through spiderwebs and brambles as he tried to avoid them, his chest heaving as he strove to do the impossible—outrun a werewolf.

A chilling howl rent the air, and Draco's breath hitched as he felt it reverberate through his chest. Clearly, Potter had transformed, and was now on the hunt. He cursed inwardly, and staggered as he tried to pick up his pace, though he was already running at full speed through the black woods. Despair edged into his mind as he moved—escaping Potter felt nigh impossible.

Draco's breath escaped him in sharp pants as he continued to run, pain lancing through a stitch in his side, and as he brought down a hand to rub at the spot, his foot, inevitably, caught on a root, and he tumbled forward with a sharp yelp of surprise.

Except Draco did not crash painfully to the ground as he had expected, but instead he pitched headfirst into an ice-cold river.

Draco's head broke the surface of the water with an exaggerated gasp, shivering violently as he listened to the distant crash of Potter in his wolf form tearing through the undergrowth in search of him. He howled again, closer this time, and Draco shuddered.

 _I need to cover my scent,_ Draco thought desperately, his mind a blinding white in his panic. _I need to get him off my tail..._

Draco stayed in the river. He got used to the water temperature slowly, but it was still bitterly cold as he struck out with the current, it taking him away from Potter almost as fast as Draco could run. The speed of it was a blessing—it gave Draco a chance to rest, letting the water do the work of carting him to safety, but even as he moved, he could hear Potter gaining on him, making it clear that following the river would not be enough to escape him.

Making a decision, Draco paddled to the bank, and his hands fell on a bed of yellow flowers, closed up for the night. They smelled strong and sweet, and Draco grabbed handfuls of them, rubbing them vigorously into the places where his scent was strongest—his throat, his underarms, and his groin.

Draco took off running again, his gait laboured by his shivering, he reminded of the cold now that he was out of the water, and slowly, the sound of Potter's pursuit began to fade. It was working! Encouraged, Draco picked up his pace while he looked to the sky, trying to gauge what direction he was headed in.

 _There's the North Star,_ Draco thought to himself, unwilling to speak aloud and possibly draw Potter in by doing so, _and there's Ursa Minor...so I need to go East, which is..._ Draco turned, and hurried away.

Another chilling howl tore through the air, and Draco shivered, hyper-aware of how much closer it was. At the same time, his eye caught something in the darkness—something bright, and something glowing an unearthly green.

Draco pivoted on his heel, heart in his throat, certain that he knew what he was seeing. Could he really, _truly_ be this lucky? He ran at the light, it growing brighter as he approached, and Draco came upon a dead log, which he nearly tripped over in the dark. There, perched upon one of the branches jutting out from the oak was a cluster of fungus, thin and wavy, more like a head of lettuce rather than a traditional mushroom in shape, and it was glowing brightly like the tail of a firefly.

_Foxfire._

Draco had only ever seen it in drawings and photographs, never with his own eyes. It was supposedly quite abundant, but few potioneers were brave enough to venture deep enough into the woods at night to collect it. It was supposed to carry similar properties to Floo powder, but without the benefit of needing actual fire to make it work.

Draco hurried forward, slowing to a stop as he reached the log, and dug into his pockets. His dragonhide gloves were thankfully still there, folded neatly where he had left them, and he tugged them on. Next, he cradled the foxfire in his hands, and very gently pried it from the dead tree, bits of the delicate fungus flaking off and clinging to his gloves as he moved despite his care, and at last it came free, just as a soft rustle in the foliage sounded near to Draco, signalling to him that Potter had located him at last.

This time, Draco turned and gazed at Potter without fear. Pinpricks of emerald stared back at him from the gloom, and the rest of Potter's huge, hulking form was hidden in shadow. Draco held the fungus up to the moonlight, and it crackled, as though it was a brittle autumn leaf exposed to flame.

“ _Home,_ ” Draco said loudly and clearly, then crushed the foxfire in his hands, and allowed the broken pieces of fungus to fall all over him. They were cold and wet as they landed in his hair and on his cheeks, but they crackled like dry logs in a fire grate.

The very air around him seemed to thin, and Potter bared his teeth, stark white gleaming out of the dark, but even as he lunged it was too late, and Draco disappeared with a sharp _crack_.

 

~*~

 

Draco reappeared in an unfamiliar area, coughing up pieces of fungus and spore powder upon the front garden of a house that he did not recognize.

“Where am I?” he wondered aloud, just as the front door of the house burst open, making Draco's eyes sting from the sudden light.

“Who goes there?” a sudden voice demanded, and Draco cursed when he recognized it. It would figure that he'd find himself at the mercy of the mudblood and her weasel, instead of his intended location.

“Ron?” Granger called from inside, “what is it?”

Draco heard Weasley approach, but he was still coughing and hacking up fungus and spores from the trip, and couldn't answer.

“ _Bloody hell!_ ” Weasley suddenly exclaimed. “It's _Malfoy_.”

“ _What?_ ” Draco heard Granger's soft scuffle of feet as she hurried to join Weasley. “Oh my God! Malfoy, what happened to you?”

Draco did not know what to do. How did he explain to these people all that had happened in so short a time? Had it really only been two days? And, most importantly, would they even _believe_ that their bosom friend was not only alive and well, but now little more than a beast?

“Werewolves,” Draco finally rasped, uncertain what else he could say. “Captured—got away—s-snapped my wand...”

“Oh, Draco, you poor thing,” Granger cooed, and Draco felt as though he might be sick at the sound of her pity. “Come inside, I'll run you a bath and we'll get you something to eat...”

“Hermione!” Weasley protested, and Draco finally looked up at them in time to see Granger give Weasley a withering glare.

“He's hurt, Ron, and without a wand! What would you have me do, turn him out onto the street?”

Weasley opened and closed his mouth repeatedly like some sort of goldfish, while he flailed his arms at Granger, making it clear that he did indeed have no intention of helping Draco, much less letting him inside their home.

“Oh, _Ron_ , you're horrible!” Granger huffed. “If that's really your attitude, don't you dare come back inside, I mean it. Come on, Draco, let's get you all fixed up.”

Draco had wanted to bat away her hands and insist that he didn't need her help, but her arm slipped around his waist, and she hoisted him to his feet before he could say a word. He wanted to bark at her some caustic remark, some sort of cutting insult, and _remind_ Granger that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not need the help of one such as her, but the words would not come. Instead, he allowed her to lead him inside, she jabbering at him the whole way—mostly apologies for Weasley's attitude—and led him to the bathroom, where she tapped the simple marble bath faucet with her wand, and hot water gushed forth, filling the tub quickly before she grabbed something from one of the cabinets, a round ball, about the size of a snitch, but a pale violet in colour.

“This should help you relax,” she explained, and tossed the thing into the water with a soft _plop!_ and Draco watched as it seemed to explode, turning the water the same shade of violet, and it filled the air with the soft scent of lavender. “It's a muggle invention called a bath bomb. Anyway, leave your dirty clothes on the mat, and I'll transport them out to wash them, and they should be ready before you finish washing, okay?”

Granger did not give Draco a chance to respond before she bustled out and shut the door behind her.

Draco turned to face the tub. It smelled inviting, with its shimmery, pale purple hue, and the sweet smell of lavender on the steam, but the idea of making himself vulnerable (or at least _more_ vulnerable) did not sit well with him. These people had been against him during the war—despite the fact that Draco had _known_ that he'd been on the wrong side—and they had practically made a career of humiliating him during their time as classmates. Was it really such a good idea to trust them?

“ _I'm not planning on hexing you, Draco,_ ” a female voice said from beyond the closed door, as though she'd heard his uncertain thoughts. “ _And I can take Ron if he tries anything. Just get in the bath, I'm trying to help you—I swear.”_

Draco felt his face burn at how two-dimensional he must seem to them, and with a huff he stripped off his clothes, his shirt first, followed by his trousers—one of the few non-robe ensembles that he owned, given that it had been designed for hiking through the woods, and not (completely) for fashion, and dumped them on the mat that Granger had pointed to, followed by his socks, undergarments, and boots.

Draco sank into the hot, scented water just as his clothing vanished, making him feel, if possible, more ill at ease. He sank deeper into the water, trying to not think on it, dipping his hair in, and he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that muggles had at least one thing right—this _bomb_ thing.  It was quite nice. With a soft, relaxed sigh, he sat up and reached for the hair potion.

Draco washed, taking his time, and the water never went cold, for which he was deeply grateful. After twenty minutes his clothing was returned to him, washed, dried, and mended of the minor tears from his escape, and Draco felt himself relax a little, before he eased back in the water and listened to the distant sounds of Granger and Weasley arguing.

 _Probably about me,_ Draco thought as he lifted his hands from the water to look at his wrinkly fingers, _no matter. I'll be out of here soon, I hope._

He stayed in the water for another hour, until he overheard Weasley remark, “ _Do you think he's drowned in there?_ ” closely followed by Granger's snappy reply, “ _Ron, stop it right now and use the bushes if you really have to go. Leave Draco alone._ ”

Draco snorted at that. Perhaps he'd been a bit quick to dismiss Granger as a possible friend—or at least ally. She at least had a wit to nearly match his own, and her remarks to Weasley were much more amusing than he had expected them to be.

After another half an hour, somewhat reluctantly, Draco stood up and used the shower to rinse the residual suds and grime from his skin, and grabbed a fluffy white towel from the rack, drying himself as he drained the tub. He dressed and used what meagre hair products Granger had on hand before he hung the towel over the shower curtain's rod, and stepped back out.

Outside Draco's shelter of the bathroom, Granger was tending to a tea tray piled high with sandwiches, and Weasley was (thankfully) nowhere to be seen.

“He's with Rose,” Granger said by way of explanation, “our daughter. She heard the bath and woke up. Not to worry, we've fixed the silencing charms, but Ron's working on getting her back to sleep.”

“I...see...” Draco replied awkwardly, and Granger smiled at him warmly.

“How are you feeling? That was a Foxfire Apparition I saw, right? I've only read about it, I've never seen it before.”

“Yes,” Draco said as he nodded once, wanting to take his leave, but given that he had no idea where he was and still wandless, he was sort of stuck. “Thank you, I suppose, for taking me in. You had no reason to, and I—thank you.”

“Least I could do,” Granger replied with a small smile. “Our Hogwarts years...it's water under the bridge, Malfoy. Come, eat. You look dead on your feet.”

Draco had a feeling that the invitation was less of a request and more of a demand. It was all in the motherly smile Granger offered him as she spoke, and so with his shoulders slumped in defeat (and the fact that he was _starving_ ) he shuffled over to the coffee table, and accepted a sandwich and cup of tea from her. The sandwich was cucumber with a few fronds of fresh dill, and was much more posh than he would have anticipated from her, and surprisingly, quite delicious.

“So,” Granger said as she helped herself to a cup of tea, and Draco began to eat. “You said werewolves got you?” Draco nodded. “Was it...I mean, erm, was it... _someone you knew?_ ”

Draco arched a brow at that. _Did she know?_

“Perhaps,” Draco replied evasively, uncertain whether it was wise to divulge Potter's secret. At the same time however, Potter hadn't exactly done anything to warrant Draco's loyalty, and pushed forward, both curious to see how Granger might react to the news that her bosom friend was alive, and keen to betray Potter, cementing the fact that he bore no ties to the werewolf— _especially_ after the way he had been treated at his hands. “Do the dead even _stay_ dead these days?”

“Oh, you saw Harry then?” she asked in a rush, her eyes wide, but not with shock, which was somewhat curious. “Is he okay? Was Teddy with him?”

“You don't seem exactly shocked that Potter's alive,” Draco remarked, “as I understand it, the _Prophet_ said that he was quite dead. I assume you had a hand in covering up his turning, then?”

Granger bit her lip, and looked away from him. Draco ground his teeth. He was getting _sick_ of all these bloody secrets.

“Tell me, Granger,” Draco commanded. “I was kept hostage by _Alpha Potter_ ,” he sneered nastily, “and when I say kept, I mean _kept_. He had zero regard for my feelings, or anything of the sort. All he cared about was forcing himself on me, and nearly did on more than one occasion. I believe I deserve some answers after that ordeal.”

Granger did not speak right away, but her eyes went wide at Draco's words.

“Oh, Draco...he didn't...I mean, he didn't _rape_ you, did he?” she asked, and Draco shook his head. She relaxed. “Oh, good.”

“Tell me,” Draco repeated, “I need to know.”

This time, Granger sighed, and nodded her head. Draco leant forward, food and drink forgotten, and at last, she began to speak.

“I don't know everything, mind you,” she prefaced, “I only know what happened before he left. It was just after Teddy's first birthday, and Harry had ordered him a toy broom engraved with his name, but it was delayed by a few days. When it finally came, Harry rushed over to Andromeda's in the evening to drop off the present, and he found a...a...” Granger covered her hand with her mouth just as a tiny sob escaped past her lips.

“Teddy turned?” Draco prompted, and she nodded a little.

“It was _awful_. We have no idea _how_ or _why;_ my guess was that the lycanthrope gene was dormant until Teddy got a little older, I don't know. Anyway, one would have assumed that a wolf that young, just a cub, wouldn't be able to do much damage, but he...oh, it was just a mess. Poor Andromeda, murdered by her own grandson. And then here comes Harry, he finds this bloody mess, and Teddy in the middle of it, a scared, confused young werewolf without a pack. He went straight for Harry, bit him on the wrist, but Harry got him off and tied him up, called us, and...” Granger trailed off, her voice interrupted by another soft sob, just as Weasley wandered in to join them. He shot Draco a glare before sitting next to Granger, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“W-we all thought it was for the best that they disappear,” Granger continued, “it was barely a year after the war, and the werewolf numbers had exploded during it, and there were all these mixed, confusing, and contradictory laws regarding the werewolf population. Harry knew that Teddy would be punished for his gran's death, and Harry himself would have to go on the Werewolf Registry. He didn't want to risk anyone—people were being heckled for even _associating_ with werewolves at that time, so we faked his death, and he disappeared. We never saw him again.”

Draco sat back, his lips pursed and twisted into a grimace as he sat there, a sour taste in his mouth like he had eaten an unripened plum. He felt as though part of the mystery of this New Potter had been revealed to him, thanks to Granger, though he didn't like the faint tendrils of sympathy that he now associated with him—he wanted to hate Potter, but frustratingly, he couldn't quite manage it.

“So, you know nothing of what Potter's been up to after he and Teddy left?” Draco asked, at last returning to his food as he regarded the muggleborn, and she shook her head.

“Why do you ask, Draco? I mean...was he... _is_ he okay?” Granger asked, her voice halting and uncertain, almost as though she did not know whether or not she wanted Draco to answer.

Draco bit into his sandwich, delaying a response, chewing and swallowing before at last he said, “he is not the same Harry Potter that we all knew.” He chanced a glance up to the pair of them, but their expressions had not changed. “He is more wolf than man now, I think. He fancies me his _mate,_ and it took a great feat of strength on my part to escape him.”

“ _You?_ ” Weasley sputtered suddenly, “Harry's not gay, Malfoy.”

“Well then he does a remarkable impression of it,” Draco replied snidely, while he lifted a pointed brow at the ginger. “Potter is as bent as a prybar and as pure as yellow snow, Weasley.”

“How would you even know?”

“Considering he took every opportunity to snog me or cop a feel, one could say that I have _intimate_ knowledge of his sexuality, thank you ever so much,” Draco said, and glared at Weasley. “I wanted nothing to do with him, mind you. I just wanted to go home, but he wouldn't let me. Do not think for a second that _any_ of this was my idea.”

Weasley opened his mouth, perhaps to offer up an angry retort, but Granger rested a hand on his knee, and he deflated, eyeing her with a frown.

“Hermione—” he began to protest, but she cut across him at once.

“—no, Ron,” she said, “that's enough. If Harry's more wolf than man, I think we need to put our petty differences aside and get Draco out of here.”

“What? Why?” Draco's surprise shifted to anger. “Can't handle helping someone in need, or am I just not the kind of person who _deserves_ aid?”

Weasley opened his mouth, presumably to respond in anger, and Granger immediately kicked the ginger in the shin, effectively shutting him up, before she once more turned her attention to their house guest.

“No, Draco,” she said patiently—more patiently than Draco would have expected. “Because if Harry sees you as his mate, or intended mate, nothing will stop him from seeking you out. He wants to _claim_ you, and nothing—not me, not Ron, _nothing_ will be enough to stop him.”

As if on cue, a loud, chilling howl sounded from outside.

The werewolf had found him at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The concept of Foxfire as a transport means is 100% made up by me and has no canon connection with Floo Powder at all. Also Foxfire is a real plant, and really glows. It's damn cool, and I'd highly recommend looking it up if you're into plants and stuff.


	5. Worlds Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be February 22nd. I got a nice little bump in comments this past week for this story, so I just wanna send a shoutout to all you readers out there for giving this story a chance. Thank you sooooo much for all your kind words and low-key freakouts, it was so exciting to see you guys get so involved in this story! :)

Chapter Five – Worlds Collide

 

Potter howled again, and Draco watched Granger go white.

“Is...is that Harry?” she asked, and Draco nodded once.

Weasley jumped up and ran to the window where the howling was coming from, and he cursed.

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” he cried, “you won't _believe_ this. Come look!”

Granger jumped up and ran to join him. Like Weasley, she let out an audible gasp, and her eyes became wide and round, as though she was seeing some sort of spectre.

“He looks like—”

“—The Grim,” Weasley finished, “but with green eyes.”

“Why would his form look so...so... _scary?_ ” Granger asked, “I mean, Remus's form was—you know—terrifying, but nothing like that.”

“I think being a mum is making you loopy,” Weasley remarked, “it's gotta be something about his hair, just a fluke.”

“ _Ron!_ ” Granger swatted his arm, “motherhood is _not_ making me loopy. But we can't let him stay out there. He'll wake the neighbours, and he'll scare Rose...how is he even turned? It's not the full moon!”

“What do you propose we do?” Weasley asked, “I don't think we have any steaks big enough to feed him...”

As the couple bickered and argued, Draco took a small step back. Neither of them moved, apparently completely ignorant to Draco's hasty retreat and too wrapped up in one another to notice that he'd moved.

Draco took another handful of steps back, and again they didn't seem to notice.

 _Now's my chance,_ he thought, _they can keep Potter occupied, and I'll just slip out the back..._

Draco turned and hurried to the back of the house where he found a door in the kitchen facing a modest vegetable patch and apple tree. He opened the door, but the moment that the cool evening air began to filter in, a shrill voice sounded from directly behind him, making Draco jump.

“ _Draco!_ ” Granger cried, “just what _exactly_ do you think you're doing?”

Draco whirled around, the door still wide open, and found both Weasley and Granger staring at him.

“What does it look like, Granger?” Draco demanded, “I'm getting out of here while you two are busy with Potter.”

“And he'll just hunt you down again like a dog,” Weasley said with much more intelligence in his voice than Draco would have expected of him. “Are you _really_ that stupid?”

Draco ground his teeth as he glared at the two Gryffindors. He opened his mouth to respond, but at the same moment the front door slammed, and Granger's eyes went wide with fright.

“ _Rose!_ ” she shrieked, and spun on her heel, running full-tilt towards the front of the house. Draco followed with Weasley, at a loss for why Granger thought her daughter would be up or using doors at this hour, when he'd been under the impression that she'd been asleep. Despite this, when they skidded to a halt in front of the house, they all saw with horror that indeed the little toddler was outside and rushing at Potter as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Granger threw open the door, her eyes ablaze with panic, and she whipped out her wand. Draco could see at once that her common sense had flown out the window, and she was in full Protective Mother mode. Unlike Granger however, Draco thought that he knew Potter—at least _Werewolf_ _Potter_ a little better than she did. Though he could not quite explain it, even to himself, he knew one thing for certain—Potter would not harm the child.

“ _No!_ ” Draco hissed, and threw out his arm to stop Granger from attempting to jinx the enormous wolf. “You may as well try to hit him by throwing a live bee at him, Granger, you should know that werewolves are immune to most forms of wizard magic.”

“My baby— _my baby!_ ” Granger cried, tears coming to her eyes, “ _get out of my way, Draco!_ ”

Even as she protested, little Rose came to a stumbling stop in from of Potter. The huge, bear-sized wolf dwarfed the little girl in her princess pink nightshirt and diaper, and she let out a shrill giggle as the wolf bowed forward and sniffed, causing her ginger locks to flutter as though in a light breeze.

“Puppy,” she said, and reached up to clumsily pat Potter's muzzle.

Draco held his breath, praying that he was correct. Weasley and Granger appeared to be frozen in fear as their little daughter giggled and continued to pat Potter's enormous muzzle like he was some sort of friendly dog. He huffed again, apparently content to let her do it, and the pink tip of his tongue poked out to lick her palm, making the little girl shriek with delight.

“He's still Harry,” Granger said suddenly, and her entire body seemed to sag with relief, and Draco rolled his eyes and curbed the impulse to ask, _who else would he be?_

Potter nudged the little girl again, and then lay down in the grass. Rose cried out with excitement and clambered onto Potter's back, only to slip off almost immediately. Her little head bumped the soft, grassy ground and she began to cry, but Potter was there before more then two tears had been shed, and he licked her cheek, calming her down.

“Nice puppy,” she said, and Potter nuzzled her cheek lightly. She yawned widely and got up, only to toddle closer to Harry and curl up in the space between his enormous front paws, and she was asleep within moments.

Draco, his arm still thrown in front of Granger and Weasley, was watching Potter snuffle at the toddler in front of him while she slept on peacefully, blissfully unaware of the danger she was in if the wolf suddenly decided that she'd make a better snack than companion.

Granger and Weasley were still frozen in shock, and they watched their former friend with wide, frightened eyes. Granger appeared to be slightly calmer than Weasley, who seemed to have no idea _how_ to react, and merely gaped at the huge beast that was now tending to his child so lovingly.

Potter lifted his head once it seemed as though he was content that the child was sleeping soundly, and he gazed over to the adults. He blinked once, his pink tongue licking over his black nose as his gaze fell to Draco, and the blond tensed.

Draco watched, feeling slightly sick as Potter transformed back into a more human shape. He caught the sight of both Granger and Weasley look away from their friend's naked form, their cheeks red, but despite Draco's own discomfort at seeing Potter naked, he did not look away.

Potter did not say a word as he scooped Rose up carefully and carried her back up to his friends. Draco needed to check his urge to run as he watched Potter approach, unwilling to risk the child, and dropped his arm as Potter made it to them and held out Rose to Granger.

Her maternal instincts taking over, Granger snatched up the child and hugged her close. Rose whined in discomfort but did not fully wake, while Potter shifted his gaze to Draco again. Before he could blink, Potter had closed the distance between them; a thick, muscular arm wound its way around Draco's waist, and the tip of Potter's nose tickled the line of Draco's throat.

“You're safe,” Potter rumbled, “I'm glad. Come home?”

“What? _No!_ ” Draco pressed his palms to Potter's bare chest, trying to shove him away, but it was like trying to move a brick wall with his bare hands. “I'm not going _anywhere_ with you! Why do you think I ran? For the exercise?”

“Don't understand,” Potter said, his brow furrowing as he continued to stare at Draco. “I...I chased you. I _caught_ you. You're my mate.”

“Er, Harry?” a tiny voice asked, and both Draco and Potter turned to see Granger standing there, holding her little daughter with Weasley nowhere to be seen, though Draco presumed that he'd gone inside. “Erm...how about before you take Draco home we all go inside and...talk? Ron's gone to get you some trousers, and I can get you something. Tea, or...or something.”

“Why?” Potter asked, his arm around Draco tensing with protectiveness or possessiveness—he wasn't certain which.

“Well...even though you want to take your mate home, it looks like he's not very comfortable with the idea,” Granger explained. “You know us, Harry, we don't plan on taking Draco from you. But maybe we should talk about what _he_ wants, too, not just you.”

For what Granger was saying, she may have been speaking Swahili for all the sense it seemed to make to Potter. His arms were tense around Draco, completely ignorant to the hands at his chest, and he appeared to be convinced that Granger planned to take Draco from him.

“We're family, aren't we, Harry?” she tried again, “we did all sorts of mad things together when we were younger, and when Draco left you, he came _here_. That has to mean something, right?”

Draco felt his face burn at that implication, while Potter's arms tensed around him again. _Did that mean that he was_ stuck _with Potter?_

“Come inside,” Granger tried again, her tone encouraging, rather than commanding. At the same moment, a red-faced Weasley appeared at the door, a pair of denims folded over his arm.

“C'mon, mate,” Weasley encouraged, “it's just tea. We don't plan on holding you or Malfoy hostage. How could we? We're just wizards, and you walked through our wards like they were made out of wet tissue paper.”

Weasley held out the trousers, and Potter growled. The ginger and his wife both froze, they exchanging a nervous look as Potter deliberated what to do.

“Come on, Potter,” Draco urged, doing his best to bite back his unease as he spoke. “Put on some trousers and get inside. Stop being such a bloody princess about it.”

Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco, which, perhaps, may have appeared more threatening if he wasn't completely naked. Draco stared back into his eyes, unwilling to bend, and much to Draco's utter shock, Potter looked away.

He'd gotten into a mental battle of wills with a werewolf.

And he'd _won_.

Draco almost wanted to pinch himself, if nothing else to ensure that he was actually awake.

He watched, eyes still a little wide with shock as Potter reached for the pair of trousers that Weasley held, his lip curled a little with mistrust. Draco watched Granger exchange a worried look with her husband as Potter tugged the garment on, but he still did not move more than a few inches from Draco at any one time. When they all headed inside it was the same, with Potter sticking to his side and baring his teeth at his friends (former friends?) whenever they got too close.

Draco found that he did not know what to do. Did he stay with Potter and try to assuage his temperamental, domineering werewolf leanings, or did he do what he always did, and snap at Potter for being so handsy?

It was something of a comfort that Weasley and Granger seemed as out of their depth with this New Potter as he did, and as they all migrated slowly to the sitting room (after Granger had taken Rose back to bed and locked the front and back doors) Potter dogged Draco's steps so closely that they nearly stumbled over one another three times over the course of the short trip.

Draco sat back down on the sofa where he'd been positioned earlier, and Potter, predictably, sat at his side, close enough that they were pressed thigh-to-thigh. Draco shivered a little, which only amplified when Potter looped an arm around him and leant in to smell him.

“You smell nice,” Potter murmured, his voice still a rumbling growl, but almost more human than Draco had heard it before, like Potter was making a genuine effort to not be a complete animal—for once.

“Thank you,” Draco replied stiffly, “Granger let me have a proper bath.”

Potter growled.

“What is it _now_?”

“Don't—I don't like hearing other people's names on your lips,” Potter explained, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Is that so?” Draco asked dryly, “well...tough. I'll talk about who I please. Deal with it.”

Potter frowned at this, but amazingly, he didn't growl again.

“Harry,” Granger said, her tone pleading, “you _must_ understand what you are doing. It's not right. Keeping Draco the way you are, I know you've always been a little...erm... _obsessed_ with him, but if you go about it this way, you will do nothing but possibly damage Draco; you're _hurting_ him with what you're doing.”

“Obsessed with me, are you?” Draco asked, and he saw the muscles in Potter's jaw tense. “Are you _hearing_ your friend, Potter? I am not one of your little wolves—and I never will be. You cannot _make_ me abide by your rules simply because you say so, and you _cannot_ keep me like a toy. If you try to take me back to that place, I will just run again. I am not yours to keep.”

Something seemed to be going on behind Potter's blazing glare. He jumped up suddenly with an angry shout, his fingers diving into his hair and raking through it so roughly that he tore a few strands out in the process. The sudden move had made Granger and Weasley jump, and they all watched as he began to pace, but still he did not stray far from Draco.

“Failed...” Potter said after nearly a full minute of silence. “I've _failed_ as an Alpha.”

“Oh, Harry, you haven't failed—” Granger began, but a low, lupine growl from Potter quickly silenced her.

“Have,” Potter repeated. “An Alpha must provide for his pack, always, and I can't make my Bitch happy. He won't let me.”

“Have you given me much reason to?” Draco asked with an arched brow. “You _kidnapped_ me, Potter, it's not like you brought me flowers.”

“Humans are always nervous round werewolves, mate,” Weasley added, “bit hard to feel anything but nervous round something that can eat you.”

Potter glared at the ginger, a tendril of hurt working its way into his expression. Weasley stared back, the blank look upon his face telling everyone present that he hadn't the faintest idea what he'd said to offend his friend. Meanwhile, Potter moved back to Draco, dropped to his knees, and took his hands.

“Please, Bit—Draco,” Potter said, his tone wholly abandoning its growly, domineering, Alpha Potter tone, and becoming distinctly more pleading. “Please, let me fix this. Let me win you.”

“Why should I?” Draco asked, arching a brow at the werewolf while he tried to ignore the distinct fluttering in the pit of his stomach at Potter's words— _let me win you._

No one had ever wanted to put in the effort to _win_ him before.

Draco gasped softly when Potter suddenly reached up to touch his cheek, and traced the contours of the blond's facial bone structure with featherlight contact. Before Draco could fully process what was happening however, Potter leant in and kissed him gently.

“You shouldn't let me, not after how I've treated you, but, Draco, I am breaking all of my own rules— _for you,_ ” Potter said, his voice nearly desperate as he stared intently and pleadingly at Draco. “Please, give me a chance to fix this. I can _smell_ that you are meant to be my mate. Let me earn you—properly.”

“Again all this _meant to be_ bollocks,” Draco tried to growl, but it sounded rather weak in his own ears. His stomach knotted at the pleading look upon the werewolf's face. Something about seeing him so vulnerable seemed deeply wrong to Draco. “Why do you want me so badly? What do I have to offer a _werewolf?”_

“It's not about that, Draco,” Potter said emphatically, his hands tensing over Draco's. “It's about what I can give _you_. I am Alpha, it's my job to provide for my pack, and my Alpha Bitch most of all. Whatever you want, I can get it for you—”

“—you live in a _cave_ ,” Draco interrupted, “humans don't live in caves, Potter. Also, I've told you before, I'm not your _bitch—_ ”

“—it's not an insult, Draco,” Potter replied, his tone soft, when a sudden creak of the leather sofa drew their attention from each other, and back to Granger and Weasley who were still sitting across from them awkwardly. Draco had honestly forgotten that they were even there; he felt a strange combination of amusement and discomfort as Potter narrowed his eyes at the couple, and stood up, bowing forward over Draco as though he was trying to shield him from view.

“Harry!” Weasley sputtered, “this is—this is _mental._ We're you're friends! Why are you getting all grabby with _Malfoy_ of all people?”

“Oh _really_ , Ronald,” Granger said with a short huff. “Have you not been listening at _all_?” Weasley opened his mouth to respond, his brow creased in anger, but the coarse tones seemed to be agitating the werewolf, and with a short growl, he shifted again, more fully concealing Draco from view. At the same time, Granger pulled Weasley to his feet and began to shunt him towards the bedrooms, ignoring his grunts of protest as he tried to complain, while she muttered something about _explaining everything_ when they were alone.

For the briefest of moments, Draco almost wished that she'd stayed to explain it, for he felt as lost as they did about what on earth was going on. However, Potter was still commanding his full attention, and he could only offer Granger a fleeting, pleading glance before she disappeared with her husband.

Silence fell between them, and Potter's protective (possessive?) stance relaxed a little. He eased back, still on the floor, and eyed Draco with a look that was both lustful and pleading.

“It's not an insult,” Potter repeated after a moment of awkward silence. “I don't mean it to be belittling. An Alpha Bitch is the second highest ranking person in the pack, just below the Alpha—me. You run the show, and the only person who you need to show your neck to is me. Even then I don't expect obedience from you. Not really, at least. I want to earn it, not the other way round.

“To be an Alpha Bitch, _my_ Alpha Bitch, I'd give you everything, Draco. _Everything._ In return, I can only offer myself.”

“And why would I want _that?”_ Draco asked, arching a brow. He'd intend to ask the question with a slow, silky tone he'd used a dozen times before, but unfortunately Potter had decided to place his hand deliberately on Draco's thigh at the same moment, and his breath caught. The question tumbled from his lips shakily, and his eyes widened as he gazed back at the werewolf.

“Because I'd give you it all, my Alpha Bitch,” Potter purred as he leant in and whispered into Draco's ear, making him shiver. “I'd make you squirm like a worm on a hook, I'd make you scream, and you would _love it_. I would lie back and give myself to you, let you have your filthy way with me, and then afterwards I'd hold you, and I swear to you, you would never feel safer. I can give you all that, Draco, all you need to do is trust that I can do it—have you ever known me to break a promise when it comes to protecting people? Do you think I'd start _now_?”

Potter's voice was husky. It was a low thrum that radiated through Draco's chest and terrified him—not because of the words themselves, however. They rang of truth, of sincerity—Potter, for whatever reason, really, genuinely, _wanted_ Draco to rule this pack with him; to be his _mate_.

More concerning still, at least for Draco, was how the words did not disquiet him like they probably should have.

“Why me?” Draco asked at last, “of all the people in the world you could have chosen, why in the Seven Hells would you choose _me_?”

Potter—no, _Harry—_ chuckled warmly. He reached out and caressed Draco's cheek lovingly, making the skin tingle in its wake. Draco shivered as he bit his lip, eyeing Harry uncertainly. He wanted to trust the werewolf, but _could_ he? He still wasn't sure. This tenderness was too new to fully trust in it, and to Draco it felt as brittle as spun sugar.

“Because you push my buttons, and you're quite nice to look at,” Potter said simply, “can't that be enough?”

“For now,” Draco agreed in a similarly soft tone of voice, while he reached out a tentative hand to touch Harry's cheek in a mirror-move to the werewolf's. He jumped a little in surprise to the sudden touch, while Draco ignored it as he leant in for a gentle kiss.

 _Perhaps_ , Draco thought, as he felt Harry kiss him back just as gently, his hands falling to Draco's waist and holding him tenderly, _being with a werewolf might not be so terrible, after all._

 


	6. One Step Forward, Five Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 1st. 
> 
> **Warning: This chapter contains a scene describing the death of a non-canonical child character.**

Chapter Six – One Step Forward, Five Steps Back

Draco went to bed that night in Granger and Weasley's spare room. Harry, while insisting that he needed to 'protect' Draco from his human friends (or former friends, Draco still wasn't sure)—despite Draco's protests that he did not _need_ protecting—he seemed to want to give Draco his space at the same time, and as a compromise (which he failed to ask Draco's opinion of, and decided this on his own) he transformed into his wolf form and curled up next to the narrow bed, refusing to let anyone approach.

When Draco woke the following morning however, he found that the wolf had moved since he'd fallen asleep. Harry had crawled onto the end of Draco's bed, making it tilt slightly from his extreme weight, but miraculously had somehow not woken Draco in the process. Little Rose Weasley had also curled up with Harry, and buried herself in his dark fur like he was nothing more threatening than an overlarge golden retriever.

Draco's minor stirring woke both Harry and Rose, and the little girl smiled at Harry, then at Draco.

“Morning, Puppy, morning, Mithter Ma-foy.”

“ _Mister Malfoy_?” Draco asked with an arched brow, and she blinked at him.

“Mummy says is polite to call grownups mithter, and she said you was Mithter Ma-foy.”

“Well, just call me Draco,” Draco said to her as he crossed his arms, “ _Mister Malfoy_ is my father.”

“'kay,” she said distractedly as she slipped off the bed, and patted Harry's big nose once with the same clumsy childish affection as the night before. “You're Princess Cupcake,” she pronounced to Harry, and Draco snorted loudly, while Harry growled a little.

“I don't think he likes that name very much,” Draco noted, and Rose shook her head, making her red hair fly everywhere.

“Uh-uh, Princess Cupcake likes it. I'll get his brafast; Mummy makes the _best_ brafast.”

Before Draco could say another word, Rose scooped up the plush grey owl that had been previously buried in Harry's fur, and rushed from the room.

Draco listened to the soft pitter-patter of Rose darting off down the hall, and waited until her footsteps had completely faded away before he broke down and howled with laughter.

A sharp crunching of bone echoed throughout the small room, and Draco yelped as he was pounced on very suddenly by a _very_ naked Harry Potter.

“It's not _that_ funny, Draco,” Harry growled, his lips mere centimetres from his own, and Draco snorted.

“Sure it's not, _Princess,_ ” Draco retorted, and smirked when Harry's cheeks tinged a faint pink in embarrassment. “Although you're going to have one distraught little girl on your hands if she comes back and finds her puppy missing...maybe you should change back.”

“Why so keen to please the child of two people you supposedly hate?”

“One, because she is a child, and has done nothing to earn my wrath...yet. Two, because if you're in your wolf form I don't have to talk to you, or look at you starkers.”

“You love it.”

“Hardly.”

“I can _smell_ how much you want to look...” Harry said, his voice dropping to a purr as he leant closer to Draco, and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I think all this _Alpha Potter_ business is beginning to inflate your head...”

“No, you smelling so damn good is what is inflating my head...”

“Are all werewolves so crude? And, for the record, the whole _smelling people thing_ is incredibly gross—”

_Bang!_

Harry and Draco both jumped at the sound of the door banging open, and little Rose stood there, still in her pyjamas, and a perplexed look on her face—and, to Draco's amusement, a bowl of dog kibble in her hands. He covertly tugged the blanket over Harry's lap, and the werewolf gazed down at the piece of fabric bemusedly, as though he had no idea why Draco had covered him up like that.

“Where'd Princess Cupcake go?” she asked sadly as she gazed at Harry, “I have his brafast. Daddy made it special just for him!”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Harry?” Draco asked as he turned back to Harry with an arched brow, “ _eat up_.”

 

~*~

 

Breakfast—that is, actual breakfast—was a strange affair. Harry was quiet, thankfully dressed in Weasley's jeans again, and sitting over a platter of raw chunks of meat. Rose was sulking over the realization that her _Princess Cupcake_ was in fact a werewolf, not a giant puppy, and the rest of them had tucked into plates of eggs and toast, with plenty of tea.

When they initially began to eat, Draco did not miss the way Harry's lip curled a little, and he glared at everyone but Draco.

“What's up your arse?” Draco asked under his breath.

“Nothing, unfortunately.”

“ _No,_ I mean, why do you look so cross,” Draco explained as he rolled his eyes.

“I should have eaten first, with you,” Harry explained in the same soft tone as he gazed over at the three Weasleys, who were all eating and chatting happily amongst themselves.

“This is _not_ a wolf pack, Harry,” Draco muttered back, “you're just going to have to deal with it.”

Harry scowled, but did not protest any further as he stabbed at his raw chunks of meat with his fork, acting very much like he no longer knew how to use the utensil, and his fingers twitched, as though he'd much rather be using his hands to eat.

Draco wrinkled his nose at the prospect. Just _what_ had he gotten himself into?

_And why did I kiss him like that?_ Draco wondered as he popped the yolk of one of his eggs, and sopped up the fluid absentmindedly with his toast. _What if it's just...oh, what's it called? Something Syndrome. Is it too soon for that?_

Draco glanced back up at Harry, who was paying him no mind as he wolfed down his meat. It really was quite disgusting to watch, and even Weasley, who had the table manners of a Niffler, looked distinctly put off by it.

 

After the painfully awkward meal, Granger took Rose to the sitting room for her 'lessons' (although Draco hadn't the faintest idea what a two-year-old needed _lessons_ about) while he dragged Harry onto the back porch that faced the garden.

Harry took immediate advantage of their lack of an audience, and slipped an arm around Draco's waist, while the tip of his nose fell to the base of the blond's throat, inhaling deeply. Draco rolled his shoulders in clear discomfort, but Harry ignored it as he began to plant kisses to the exposed flesh, trailing his lips higher and higher, until they met Draco's in a heart-stopping kiss.

“N-No,” Draco panted around the kiss, unwilling to let Harry know just how deeply it was affecting him, “I—I came out here because we needed to _talk_...”

“We _are_ talking,” Harry pointed out, “but isn't snogging so much more fun?” He extended his tongue, which still carried a slight (disgusting) coppery tang to it from his bloody breakfast, and swiped it over Draco's bottom lip pointedly.

“No, I—we _need_ to talk about this...”

“Talk, talk, _talk..._ ” Harry grumbled, “wizards _love_ to talk.”

“ _You_ used to be a wizard,” Draco pointed out, and Harry bared his teeth at him. “What? It's true.”

“I _won't_ be associated with them,” Harry growled, “they...I don't care what the past is. Now is now. _All_ that matters is here and now, and I am a werewolf, _not_ a wizard.”

Draco watched Harry carefully when he spoke. The alpha wolf would not meet his gaze, and instead spoke to the banister of the porch. His hands were clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles had gone white, and he looked angrier than Draco could recall ever seeing him before.

The sight made Draco feel strangely uneasy. His stomach twisted in on itself, guilt roiling in his gut like eating too late at night.

Something had happened to Harry—something _bad_. Something worse than the Dark Lord, something worse than war.

But what, exactly, Draco did not know.

Taking a calculated risk, Draco reached out and touched Harry's cheek lightly. The slight contact was just enough to draw the werewolf's attention back to him, and Draco ghosted his lips over Harry's in a gentle kiss.

“Tell me what happened, Harry,” Draco murmured, “help me understand what's going on in your head.”

Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder, but did not immediately speak. It took Draco a moment to understand why—if Harry was the Alpha, the proverbial Top Dog—or _Top Wolf,_ rather—why would Harry place himself in such a position where he looked so vulnerable?

Draco lifted a hand to Harry's hair and stroked the mess of it idly. Harry sighed, and shifted closer to briefly nuzzle the side of Draco's throat.

_I'm the only one who can do this,_ Draco realized with a jolt, _as the so-called Alpha Bitch, I'm the only one who is allowed to see this vulnerable side of him._

Somehow, the weight of that responsibility was so much that Draco had half a mind to jump up and reject it. He wasn't like Harry—he couldn't take responsibility like this, he wasn't built for it. He was a Slytherin, after all, not some sort of blockheaded Gryffindor.

Despite this, Draco did not move. He petted Harry's hair gently, consolingly, and waited for him to speak.

“Who would hurt children, Draco?” Harry eventually asked softly, his voice a little hoarse. “I've never seen a werewolf look at a child and say, _yes, this is the one I will totally destroy_. It's always wizards—Dark Lords, and...and...abusers, and prejudiced arseholes...why?”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Harry continued before he could.

“They were just little kids,” Harry said, “I was alone in the woods with them, a new wolf, and I was scared. Teddy was barely over a year old, and he got tired quick, so I ended up carrying him a lot. I made a sling out of my shirt. I got all these red chafing marks from it, and I got sick from exposure and starvation, because I always made sure that Teddy ate first.

“And then we found Lucy,” Harry said, his voice catching as he spoke. “S-she was so sweet. Long, blonde hair, big blue eyes, cheeks like apples. You'd never know she was a werewolf. She was six years old, she was bitten a few weeks earlier, and her parents had abandoned her in the woods.”

“Her parents abandoned her at _six years old?_ ” Draco asked, aghast. To his horror, Harry nodded.

“I was too confident—too _stupid,_ ” he said hoarsely, “I was so _sure_ we could just wander through the woods and find a pack. I knew one was close—I just _knew—_ but...but... _they_ found us first.”

Harry paused, his gaze faraway and slightly sickened. Part of Draco didn't want him to continue—he knew the cruelty of humans, he'd seen it firsthand thanks to the Dark Lord. The _they_ that Harry spoke of Draco could guess were likely poachers. Werewolf fur and leather had always been highly coveted, but rare and expensive because of how dangerous it could be to collect it.

In spite of his reservations however, Draco knew that he needed Harry to tell him what happened—not just for Draco's benefit, to understand the wolf parts of him, but for Harry, too. He needed to free it, speak it, and let it go.

“Lucy ran ahead,” Harry said softly, his voice deadened and weak. “She was always running on ahead. She was so full of life, and despite her parents leaving her as they did, she was still so...so... _joyous._

“I first knew something was wrong when she ran off as usual, disappearing in the trees, and her laughter suddenly stopped. Just...silence.” Harry paused, and shuddered. Draco opened his mouth to prompt Harry to continue, but he did so before Draco had even said a word. “S-she started to _scream_ , and Teddy started to cry. I clapped a hand to his mouth and threw a silencing charm at him. I hated to do it, but I _had_ to. If something was after us, I couldn't let it get Teddy.

“I wrapped Teddy in his blanket and hid him in an old tree. He was really upset, crying, but I cast a few more silencing and barricade charms to stop him from wandering off and left him there.”

Harry began to shake with unshed tears, and Draco wrapped his other arm around him, closing the werewolf in his embrace. Amazingly, Harry did not brush off the attempt at consoling him but accepted it, he nuzzling in the crook of Draco's arms like a puppy needing comfort, but despite his shiny eyes, had not yet shed a tear. He trembled, both like he wanted to accept the comfort and reject it all at once, but before he could come to a decision, he began to speak again.

“S-she stopped screaming by the time I got there,” Harry said, his voice a low mumble of shame as he spoke. “I don't know exactly what happened to her, I didn't see it, but I knew she was dead. I-I was running, calling her name, and then my foot was caught in this bear trap-thing, but it was made out of silver.”

“A werewolf trap,” Draco filled in, and Harry nodded.

“God, Draco, it _hurt_. It was worse than anything. And then...then these men were there, and that was just worse because I could smell Lucy, and they were covered in her blood, and I realized that they must've killed her, and...and...” Harry paused, a tear leaking from his eye, and Draco brushed it away gently. The werewolf seemed too lost in memory to notice the small action, and though Draco almost didn't want to hear the rest of the story, the look upon Harry's face was enough of a reminder that he _needed_ to share it with someone.

“T-They got to me, and I was terrified, because if I died here, Teddy would probably just starve to death in that old dead tree, and they were _laughing while they came at me._ To them, it wasn't them attacking another p-person. It was a _hunt,_ and they had _fun._ ”

Harry opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out. He tried again, and again, but it was as though someone had abruptly cast a Silencing Charm on him. He blinked, and another tear streaked his cheek as his eyes filled with horror.

Draco had never seen Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Saviour of the Wizarding World ever look like this before. He had always known that Harry had seen some truly horrible things in his youth, but he had always gotten through it with his head held high and his mind more or less in tact.

This time, Harry looked truly broken.

Draco didn't know what to do. He was not good at taking care of people, it was simply not his strong suit. But now here stood a man _—no,_ _werewolf,_ he reminded himself—who desperately needed comfort, and Draco had no idea how to give it.

Uncertain if it would help, Draco leant in and kissed him.

Harry froze, startled, but after a moment he seemed to relax as he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and drew him closer. There was a rumble like a purr deep in his throat—approval, maybe—and Draco shuddered as he was pulled firmly against Harry's chest.

His skin was warm, hard, with sparse little wiry hairs that tickled his palms. Draco shivered again despite the warm sun beating down on them, and he felt Harry chuckle warmly.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Harry teased.

“You wish,” Draco retorted, and they both laughed, while Draco smiled fondly as he recalled the last time he'd posed such a question to Harry. A lot had changed.

“I can't believe I didn't want to do this,” Draco murmured as Harry moved in for another kiss, none-too-subtly turning them to pin Draco against the porch's banister. Draco trembled as Harry did so, amazed at how strangely _good_ it felt to be held by Harry in this way. “Why does it feel so...so... _right?_ ”

“Because it _is_ ,” Harry murmured, and kissed him again. “That's what I've been trying to tell you. You were made for me, and I for you.”

“Past evidence suggests otherwise,” Draco pointed out, “how many times did we try to kill each other back at school?”

“Correction: _you_ tried to get me expelled, or killed, I'm not sure which,” Harry said, pressing his forehead against Draco's as he gazed into his eyes. “I did no such thing...except...once.”

“It was a good once,” Draco replied dryly, his eyebrow arching pointedly. In truth, he didn't remember much of it. He recalled panic, and trying to use an Unforgivable Curse on Harry, then pain, and Snape saving his life. He still had the scars, though hardly thought of it, but the guilt that now registered in Harry's eyes told Draco that Harry still could recall that particular incident with photographic clarity.

“I'm glad I failed,” Harry offered, and Draco chuckled a little.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

~*~

 

An hour later, Draco and Harry were still on the porch and chatting—but mostly snogging—when little Rose burst out of the back door at a run, dressed properly this time in jeans and a long pink shirt, with her hair down her back in a herringbone braid.

“Mummy says that she's not vanithing your lunch out here like a houth elf, and that you have to come inside if you want to have eats.”

“Hmm...” Harry purred, “eat food, or eat you?”

“ _There is a two year old not three feet from you,_ ” Draco hissed, and Rose cried out as though she'd been mortally wounded.

“I am _not_ two!” she protested loudly, “two-year-olds is _babies_. I'm two and a _half_.”

Draco pressed his lips together, while Harry snorted softly into the crook of Draco's neck. His hands tensed on Draco's hips, nearly making him groan out loud. If the girl wasn't there, he was quite certain that there would be little stopping him from going further with his werewolf.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Harry finally said, “he didn't mean it, of course we know you're older than two.”

“Practically a _lady_ ,” Draco added, a note of sarcasm in his voice, but the child did not seem to catch it as she grinned widely, and hurried back to the door, but stopped with her foot on the threshold.

“And we is having rose beat sammiches, but I'll let Mummy know you wants to eat Draco instead!” She darted inside as Draco called for her to wait, and groaned while he buried his face in the crook of the werewolf's neck, and Harry laughed.

“Thank you so much for your support,” Draco grumbled as Harry continued to snicker, and moved to pet Draco's hair gently.

“Oh, it's not that big a deal, Hermione will explain it to her properly.”

“That's not better, Harry,” Draco retorted as he straightened up to offer him a glare, but Harry's grin didn't fade. He lifted a hand to stroke Draco's cheek, and he found himself smiling despite himself, and he was amazed at how he could find comfort in so simple an act like his cheek being touched.

“So...” Harry began, biting down on the side of his bottom lip as he looked at Draco, “this thing...it's happening, then?”

“Define _happening,_ ” Draco replied, frowning a little as he gazed back at Harry. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I mean, do you agree to be my Bitch?” Harry asked, then laughed weakly, his face falling when Draco's frown became more pronounced. “My _mate,_ I mean?”

“Harry...” Draco began, mirroring the werewolf by catching his bottom lip in his teeth, “I like this...this... _thing_ , whatever it is, with you, I like it, I do, but what you're asking...it's a _big_ commitment to make, and...I don't know if I can do it.”

“But...” Harry trailed off, his face falling, “but you _like_ this, I can sense it. Why won't you let me take you home, take care of you?”

“First, because contrary to popular belief, I _am_ capable of taking care of myself,” Draco retorted crossly, “second, you seem to have forgotten, _again_ , that I am not a werewolf. I'm not _like_ you. I can't just...just...run off into the wild and forget all my ties to this world—and, might I add, I still have no wand, and no way to protect myself. If something were to happen, I'd be stuck with just you to protect me, and—”

“—but I _can_ protect you!” Harry interrupted, “I am Alpha, that's my job. You don't need a stupid stick to be safe with the pack—”

“Have you so quickly forgotten that it was your own _stupid stick_ that saved you against the Dark Lord?” Draco interjected, “It might not mean anything to you anymore, but it still means something to _me_. If you can't respect that, then this thing we have going will stop, right now.”

“What? _No!_ ” Harry's hands tensed on Draco, but the hold seemed more possessive than anything else. He tried to pull out of the grip, but Harry wouldn't let go. “We're _made_ for each other, why can't you see that?”

“I don't _care_!” Draco shouted, shoving the werewolf as he spoke. “I won't have you treating me however you like, just because it suits _you_. I'm not a werewolf, Harry, I won't live in a cave like an animal, and I won't go without a wand just to please _you_. I'm not helpless, and I'm not a child, so don't you _dare_ treat me like one.”

“I am _Alpha_ ,” Harry growled, and the ridiculous bravado, instead of scaring Draco, made him want to roll his eyes. “Obviously you like this, every time I kiss you I can _smell_ how much you want this—want _me_. Why are you rejecting me now? I don't understand.”

“I am not rejecting you, Harry,” Draco replied. He had tried for patient, but his voice escaped him with a frustrated huff. “I _like_ being with you. You make me feel safe, like I'm worth something...and I _want_ to continue to see you, I'm just...I'm not ready to _mate_ with you. That's like...marriage, and it's just too soon, you have to understand that.”

“Wolves don't do it that way.”

“Yeah? Well, humans do.”

Draco crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Harry, making it as clear as he could that he did not plan to budge on the subject. Harry glared right back, his hands still tight on Draco's hips. His eyes were darting back and forth, as though he was doing some very quick thinking, and his hands kept getting tighter on Draco before they would relax almost at the same moment. It was making Draco nervous—it felt as though Harry was debating whether or not to drag him back to the den, caveman like, and the indecision was making Draco's heart pound so hard that he thought he might be sick.

Apparently sensing his fear, Harry let go of him with a shout of frustration, making Draco jump, and shed his meagre clothes. Before Draco could even ask what he was doing Harry had transformed, and with his ears flat against his head he stormed into the garden and sat down heavily under the tree. His entire form seemed to radiate frustration and anger, but Draco did not know what to do or say—he wanted to comfort him, but he didn't want to give up his freedom out of guilt either.

Draco cast one last look at the black wolf, then with a defeated sigh he turned away and headed into the house for lunch.

 


	7. Compromises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 8th.

Chapter Seven – Compromises

 

Draco had never been privy to the less noble parts of Harry's personality before, but now he was nothing short of amazed by how ridiculously stubborn he could be.

Draco waited, and when Harry still wouldn't move from his Sulking Spot under the tree, he went out with Granger, using the Floo connection so that Harry wouldn't see them leave. He then went to his flat for some fresh clothing, sent an owl to his employer to ensure him that he was not dead, went to Diagon Alley for a new wand (hawthorn and unicorn hair, 9½ inches), and got back three hours later—where Harry was _still_ pouting in his wolf form.

Even little Rose seemed to have noticed his bad mood, and had not dared to approach him. Instead she hung back, a large pink ribbon in her hands, presumably for Harry, while she watched the wolf with a frown.

“Princess Cupcake is sad,” she informed Draco and her mother when they got back, “he won't move. Is he dead?”

“No, sweetheart, he's not dead,” Granger said with a soft chuckle as she gathered the girl in her arms and offered her a hug, “he's just upset because he had an argument with Draco.”

“You fighted with my puppy?” Rose demanded as she whirled around, her eyes wide. “You need to apo-gize.”

“ _He_ is the one who needs to apologize,” Draco replied as he crossed his arms.

“Draco, don't argue with a two and a half-year-old, it makes you look ridiculous,” Granger admonished, and he heard Weasley snicker softly.

“Why are you even still here?” Weasley demanded from the sofa, “don't you have a home?”

“And if I go there, Harry will just follow me,” Draco countered, “at least here Granger has my back if something happens, if I go home, it will just be a huge werewolf pacing in front of my flat's building.”

“It makes sense for Draco to stay here for now,” Granger added while she wandered over to one of the massive bookcases in the sitting room and selected a thick tome off one of the higher shelves, “especially while Harry is being so pigheaded about this werewolf mates thing.”

“But didn't you say he was—” Weasley began, but Granger glared at him and his mouth snapped shut.

“That he was _what_?” Draco asked, arching a brow at the ginger.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. Draco arched a brow, and Weasley's ears began to turn red as he shifted his gaze to Granger.

“It's not nothing, but it's not really _something_ , either,” Granger said uncertainly while she flipped through the thick book in her hands. “I was going to bring it up after I'd done some more research.”

“Bring _what_ up, exactly?”

“That...erm...” Granger bit her lip nervously. Draco arched his eyebrows and drummed his fingers on the side of the sofa pointedly, and he saw Granger swallow visibly. “You two...er... _might_ be made for each other?”

Draco groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Have you mentioned this to Harry yet?”

“No, he's still sulking.”

“Good. Because if he hears that he'll be even more pushy...” Draco lifted his gaze to the back door. It was twilight, but the silhouette of the large black wolf was still easily discernible from his place beneath the tree. He was sitting up and seemed to be facing away from the house, his ears flat, and still as a statue. “How do you know for certain, anyway? The way things are now, I can't exactly see how we are, as you say, _made_ for each other...”

“Well...from this,” Granger said, and walked the huge book towards Draco. At a closer proximity, Draco could see that it was called _1001 More Magical Herbs and Fungi,_ and it was open to a page on Foxfire.

Draco accepted the book reluctantly, and began to read.

 

_Foxfire, sometimes known as the matchmaking fungus, is a powerful transportative substance, often used by Vampires and other fire-adverse magical creatures in lieu of Floo Powder, given that no flame is needed as a catalyst._

_It is however also known for starting more than one war, such as the Trojan War, when Helen of Troy, wife of Menelaus of Athens used Foxfire to return home, but, according to legend, cried, “home!” and found herself in the home of Alexandrus, also called Paris, of Troy instead._

 

The passage continued, detailing several other couples who were ripped apart or brought together by Foxfire, but Draco found he couldn't read any more. Did this mean he was _stuck_ with Harry?

“There's, erm, also this,” she began, and when he glanced back up, he saw her holding out a book on magical creatures, open to a passage titled, _Werewolves and their Mates_.

“I don't want to know,” Draco mumbled.

“Draco, it might help—” Granger began, but Draco was quick to cut her off.

“Help _who_ , Granger? _Me_? Or your friend? Because this just proving him _right_ , like he keeps saying that we're _meant_ _to be_ or whatever you want to call it...”

“All right, first, _call me Hermione,_ ” she said firmly, “you've been here for nearly twenty-four hours, we're practically werewolves once removed at this point, so it won't kill you to call me by my first name. Second, it doesn't mean you _have_ to be with Harry if you really don't want to. All it means is that you will be _happiest_ with him. Is that really so bad?”

“You don't know him anymore,” Draco grumbled as he glared towards the shape of the wolf in the back garden. “He's not the same. Now, he's so...so...he's an alpha wolf, he expects my obedience, not my love, and he would expect me to live in a bloody _cave_ with him. He doesn't get how I'm not exactly built for that sort of life.”

“Are you really willing to sacrifice a chance at real happiness just because you're not fond of the wilderness?” Granger—no, _Hermione_ , he reminded himself—asked. “I mean...Harry really cares about you, you know, in his way. I'm sure if you two talked about it, you could come up with some sort of solution...”

“Every time we talk, it turns into groping and honeymoon plans,” Draco pointed out, his arms crossed. “He doesn't _want_ to hear the _human_ side of things, or how a _human_ is not equipped to live like they do. I was stuck there for just over a day before I managed to escape, and I can tell you right now, it is _not_ the life for me. I would be beneath them, despite all Harry's promises that I would, as he says _rule_ them, it's utter bollocks. He just doesn't get it, and more than that, he doesn't _want_ to get it.”

“You two are so _stubborn!_ ” she cried, stomping her foot as her eyes became a little glassy. “Harry really likes you, Draco, are you really just going to give it all up because you don't like how he lives? Why can't you just _talk_ to him—”

“—I just told you that I already have! And every time it's like talking to a frustratingly fit brick wall who wants to make me his—”

“— _stop right there,_ ” Weasley interrupted, and made a slicing motion with his arms between Draco and Hermione. “Harry is like a brother to me, and I do _not_ want to hear about his sex life, thank you very much.”

“Oh, Ron, don't be such a baby,” Hermione said with a huff, and crossed her arms. “We just need to figure out how to—” her gaze had shifted to the back door of the house as she spoke, and her expression fell. “Wait, where is he?”

Draco whirled around, and he felt a chill in his chest as he realized that the space that Harry had been occupying was now empty. He exchanged a look with Hermione, and without saying a word both of them rushed outside.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Draco muttered, illuminating his wand to light the way in the encroaching darkness, and skidded to a stop under the tree. There, on the ground, was a set of distinctive paw prints that led away from the house, off the property, and into the woods.

“How thick is this wood?” Draco asked, lifting his wand higher to illuminate more of the scene.

“Not thick,” she replied, “you can make it to the other side in less than an hour—it's a nature reserve for the local muggle university.”

“Do you think he left?” Draco asked uncertainly, “or did he just go on a walk?”

“Knowing him, it's probably the former,” she said with a heavy sigh. “He's always been a bit... _dramatic_.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let me just tell Ron where we're going. You go on ahead, and I'll catch up.”

Draco nodded once, and headed for the woods. It felt oddly familiar as he slunk into the trees, his eyes on the ground as he followed the huge, heavy footprints that Harry had left behind.

_Harry is more stubborn than I ever thought he was..._ Draco thought sourly as he tried to tread lightly, in the event that Harry might be avoiding him. _What am I even going to say when I find him? Aside from 'You're an idiot,' that is._

Draco followed the footprints, and used a few tricky little locater spells when the huge paw prints disappeared into the leaf litter that blanketed the forest floor. When he came upon Harry again he was in his human form, and sitting on a large boulder. One knee was drawn to his chest, and his gaze was fixed skyward upon the nearly-full moon.

Silence stretched between them, and Draco bit his lip as he gazed at the werewolf. Harry had not reacted to his sudden appearance, and for a moment he wondered if perhaps Harry had not noticed him approaching. A moment later however he recalled that he was dealing with a werewolf, not a human, just as Harry began to speak.

“I get it,” he said, his voice soft and sad as he spoke.

“Get what, exactly?” Draco asked as he took another step forward. Harry turned around, and offered him a weak smile.

“ _It_ ,” he emphasized. “You don't want to be in a relationship with a magical creature—with a _monster._ You're a pureblood, after all. I forgot that part—that was stupid of me. You probably want a normal relationship with a normal human witch or wizard—not this freak show.”

“Harry, I—”

“—no,” he interrupted before Draco could finish, and stood up slowly. “It's okay, I understand. Monsters should be with other monsters, right? Or _Creatures,_ I suppose is the politically correct term. You don't need to explain it, or let me down easy. I was too forceful...hell, I was a complete arse. I'm not like this normally, I just...I wanted you _so much_ , Draco. Maybe it's too soon to say _love_ , since it's only been a couple of days, but that's what it feels like.”

Draco felt like he was sitting on a broken tree limb, bracing himself for a fall. He blinked, and the vision of Harry wavered, as though he was seeing him in a desert, amidst waves of distorting hot air. Harry was preparing to make the fall himself, and the idea of him finishing his out-loud thoughts made Draco feel sick.

He broke into a run, and closed the distance between them in a spurt of a few seconds. Draco's hands landed on Harry's shoulders, while Harry's fell on instinct to rest at Draco's hips. Harry smelled so infuriatingly good—of sweat, and strength, and the wildness of the forest.

“Harry...” Draco breathed, and he shut his eyes for a little longer than a standard blink. The action forced a tear from his eye, and Harry brushed it away without comment.

Draco kissed him.

It was hard, and desperate, and bore a rough need that seemed to speak to Harry's instincts when nothing else would get through to him. Harry growled in response and tugged Draco closer while he returned the kiss, and his fingers dug into Draco's hips insistently, as though terrified that Draco might let him go.

“You're not a monster, Harry,” Draco murmured, his breathing hoarse, “but I am not a werewolf. If you really want me in your life we need to _talk_ and _compromise_ , not bitch at each other until you storm off in a snit.”

“Just me?” Harry asked, “I think storming off dramatically is more _your_ thing, not mine.”

“Did I yell like a banshee, throw off all my clothes, turn into a werewolf, and sit under a tree and refuse to talk to anybody?” Draco asked sarcastically, and Harry frowned. “Oh _wait—_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Harry interrupted, and leant in for another kiss. “I swear, I won't do it again.”

“Don't make promises you don't intend to keep,” Draco countered, and Harry chuckled softly.

“I _am_ sorry, though. I've been Alpha for three years, and I was Beta before that. I just got used to people jumping when I say jump. And then I wanted you and you said _no..._ that's never happened before.”

“So being a werewolf gave you an even fatter head, is that it?” Draco teased, and Harry chuckled softly.

“ _No_ ,” he replied while he none-too-subtly snuck his hands around to the back of Draco's waist, before he dropped them farther down to cup his arse, and gave it a squeeze. “I was just _thrust_ into these leadership roles practically from the moment I was bitten, and I just got used to having my way.”

Harry arched his brow as he finished his explanation, and Draco snorted.

“There was so much innuendo in what you just said, I don't even know where to start,” Draco said, and Harry offered him a warm smile.

“And you have the will of a saint,” Harry replied, “we've been here for probably fifteen minutes, and you still haven't looked down to check me out.”

“Human, remember?” Draco teased, “I can't see as well in the dark as a werewolf can.”

“One little nip and I could make you like me,” Harry reminded him as he bowed his head and closed his lips over a patch of skin in a toothless bite, making Draco shiver.

“I don't want to be a werewolf, so don't even joke about that...please,” Draco whispered in a rush, and Harry, apparently sensing his fear, moved his hands away from Draco's arse and back to his hips, before he moved up to offer Draco a gentle kiss.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said, and it sounded as though he meant it. “I want you _so much_ , and I feel like I'd do anything to make you happy.”

“But it's conditional, Harry,” Draco protested while he frowned at the werewolf. “You say you'll do anything for me, but when I say I'm not ready to run off into the wilderness with you and never be seen again, you get upset.”

“What's so _great_ about the wizarding world?” Harry demanded, his voice little more than a growl. “After what I told you? Why would you want any _part_ of it?”

“What of my family?” Draco demanded, “am I simply to disappear, and never see them again? Your family is those wolves, but my family...I know what you must think of them, but regardless, they are _still_ my family.”

Draco bit his lip as he fell silent. True, his father, who he visited diligently every month would likely miss his visits, but not think anything of them, either. Given that everyone else who cared about him was either dead or gone, his absence would not truly be noticed. However, Harry didn't need to know how few connections to the wizarding world he truly had, not yet.

Harry touched Draco's cheek. Lightly at first, then he pressed his warm palm down in full, and cradled his head in his hand gently. He drew Draco into another kiss, while he tugged the blond closer until they were pressed chest-to-chest.

“Tell me what to do, Draco,” Harry murmured, “tell me how to make you happy.”

“Let me have my life,” Draco replied, his heart thrumming in his chest as he spoke, “don't try so hard to control it. And a real bed. In a _house_.”

“Would you settle for a simple cottage?” Harry asked, and Draco blinked.

“What did you say?”

“A cottage. A cabin, really,” Harry explained in a rush, his face tinting a faint pink as he spoke. “We—the pack, I mean—were talking about it before you ran off. Nadine thought it was time we settled down, and stopped being a nomadic pack. Plus, there would be a real bed...”

“Harry...”

“What? Wasn't that what you wanted?” Harry asked, his eyed widening a little as he stared back at Draco. “Did I muck it up again?”

“Not really, it's just...you're rushing this all again,” Draco explained. “I want to try this, with you, you _know_ that, but I'm not ready to _mate_ with you. It's too soon.”

“Why are you so _slow_?” Harry asked, something close to a frustrated whine in his voice as he spoke. “I don't understand. Is this a human quirk I wasn't aware of, because I can smell that we're mates, we don't _need_ to take it slow.”

As Harry spoke, he tightened his arms around Draco's waist. He couldn't tell if the hold was possessive or protective—now, it seemed more like it was a jumble of both, rather than one or the other. In addition, he could not deny that he liked the feeling of Harry holding him. Draco had to be strong on his own for so long, in the face of Wizengamot trials for himself and his family; in the face of watching his mother die too young from a curse by some no-name passer-by who thought she should have been imprisoned; and of watching all his friends abandon Britain for other—safer—places. To pass the reigns over to someone else was freeing, in a strange way, rather than upsetting or stressful.

“Let me take care of you,” Harry murmured, as though he could sense Draco's thoughts, and he planted a kiss to his temple. “Let me show you what an alpha can give you.”

Draco bit his lip, and he shifted a little in the embrace as his uncertainty once more reared its ugly head. What had the wizarding world ever given him of late, except for pain and suffering? He'd lost his mother, he'd lost the manor, it had taken _years_ to find a job, because unlike his friends, Draco had stubbornly stayed behind, refusing to let the anti-Slytherin climate scare him away. The Potions Master he worked for was ancient, and did not care about house leanings, or much of anything else, for that matter. He hadn't even sent an owl to see where Draco had been.

“Okay,” Draco said at last as he heaved a soft sigh, “I'll—I'll _try_ it.”

Harry's mouth split into a wide smile, and he opened his mouth, perhaps to voice his joy at Draco's assent, or spit out a lewd remark about christening the cabin that he'd mentioned.

Draco did not find out, because that was the same moment that the silver arrow pierced Harry's chest.

 


	8. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 15th. Enjoy :) Special thanks to my wonderful beta Jess for going over the medical parts of this chapter and nitpicking it all to hell <3\.   
> **Warning: Medical blood and gore.**

Chapter Eight – The Rescue

 

Harry's blood stained the arrow a deep red.

The blood that clung to the sliver arrow itself was the colour of rust, congealing before Draco's very eyes the longer it stayed embedded in the werewolf. Unlike a regular hunting arrow, the entire thing seemed to be made of silver, not just the head, and Draco had to imagine that some sort of magical augmentation kept its weight down, given that he couldn't imagine a silver arrow in its natural state being very aerodynamic.

Harry stared down at the arrow, as though the sight of it embedded in his chest was not registering as reality. He looked back up at Draco, his eyes a little wide, his pupils contracted, and his complexion paler than usual. The blood vessels around the wound had turned black, and Draco could see them easily through Harry's skin.

“Draco?” Harry asked, his voice soft and childlike as he choked, his knees buckled, and Draco rushed forward to catch him.

The pair tumbled to the ground just as another silver arrow whizzed through the air, landing in a nearby tree with a sharp _thunk_.

“Oh, Gods,” Draco said, his voice choking out a sob as he stared wide-eyed at the werewolf in his arms. “Harry, hold on!”

A crashing through the underbrush announced Hermione's arrival, paired with a shriek of surprise and pain as another arrow shot through the air and grazed her upper arm. She did not hesitate, but threw up her wand, casting a nonverbal hex in the direction the arrows had been coming from. A number of deep-voiced shouts followed, but Hermione did not flinch, and instead cast another curse.

“Keep him awake, Draco,” she commanded as she headed for their assailants, “and _do not_ remove that arrow.”

“But it's killing him!” Draco called to her, “are you mad?”

“He'll bleed out if we remove it right now. Transfigure the silver to something else, and I'll be back soon. _Don't move_.”

“But—” Draco began, but he was too late as she disappeared into the black woods. He could still hear her moving through the trees, but she was too far to shout to. He dropped his gaze to Harry, held aloft in his arms.

Harry was gasping and wheezing, his tongue painted red, and a dribble of blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth, and along his jaw. He was very pale, and more than that, he looked _frightened_.

“It's all right, Harry,” Draco said, his voice soft and weak while he reached up to pat his untidy hair, “you'll be okay.”

“Dra...co...” Harry wheezed, grappling weakly for Draco's hand, and Draco took hold of it with a weak smile. Too caught up in his shock and anguish, it took him a moment to recall Hermione's instructions, and he waved his free hand shakily, transforming the pure silver arrow into wood.

Immediately the flesh around the wound seemed to improve—it was still inflamed, still bleeding, and Harry was still wheezing and gasping, but the blood vessels around the wound lost their black tinge, which Draco hoped was a good thing. He stroked Harry's sweaty hair with his free hand, and strove to ignore the little part of his mind that felt compelled to rip the arrow from his chest— _how_ could leaving it in be better? It looked so awful.

Not ten minutes later Hermione returned, a cut on her cheek and her shoulder still bleeding where the arrow had grazed her, but otherwise she looked fine.

“Poachers,” she explained when she got back to him. “They're bound and I contacted Magical Law Enforcement, but we should get Harry out of here before they arrive. We'll take him back home, I can treat him there. I'm not a _full_ Healer yet, but I'm confident that we can still save him if we hurry.”

Hermione took out her wand again, but this time Draco beat her to it. He could guess what she planned to do this time, and when he uttered a quick, “ _Mobilicorpus_ ,” she smiled her approval, while she waved her own wand, and a silver weasel Patronus burst from the tip and darted back towards her house. She then turned to Draco supporting Harry with his wand, and murmured an incantation, covering Harry's body with a warm, spring-green light, which he recognized as a Stasis Charm. Draco knew that it something Healers used to keep patients stable, while he and other Potioneers used it to keep quick-spoiling ingredients from wilting before they could use them.

They began to walk back towards the house, with Draco supporting Harry's still form. Because of this he was unable to run, despite every part of his body screaming at him to do so—to _run,_ to _hurry, and save Harry—_ how many times had Harry saved him in the past? How could he just walk so leisurely, when Harry's very _life_ hung in the balance? How could he be good enough for Harry, save him, like Harry always saved Draco?

“Gr—Hermione,” Draco said, his voice halting and awkward as they moved. She turned to him, blinking owlishly, at him. “When we get back...I want you to tell me how to save Harry. I want to do it.”

Hermione smiled. It was not a small smile, but wide and beaming, with a knowing glint in her eye that Draco couldn't quite place.

“Okay, Draco,” she said, “I will do the diagnostic spells, but you can do everything else. Is that all right?”

Draco nodded stiffly, his neck so tense that it was a marvel that he did not snap it with the action. They lapsed into silence again, and focused their energies on keeping Harry alive and stable for the rest of the walk back to the house. It was unnerving, the eerie silence of the forest, punctuated only by the occasional gurgling gasp from Harry, and Draco would immediately glance down to check on him, and Hermione would adjust her Stasis Charm.

The silence was total save for these small sounds, almost as though the woodland animals were carrying out a silent vigil for one of their own—the werewolf. Draco felt humbled, a feeling he was wholly unaccustomed to experiencing, but it shifted to gratitude when he spotted the house, and he saw Weasley waiting outside of it.

“How is he?” Weasley asked as he jogged forward, panting a little. His face was white with fear, and his freckles stood out starkly against his skin. “I got your Patronus, Rose is in bed, and I have the sheet laid out for you to work.”

“Good,” Hermione said, her tone less warm and more businesslike than before. “I don't want Rose to see this. Are the silencing charms up around her room?”

“Yeah, they're up,” Weasley confirmed, holding the door open for Draco as he manoeuvred Harry's still form through it. “D'you think Harry will say much?”

“He's in Stasis right now, Ron,” Hermione replied crossly, “I've no idea how high his tolerance to silver poisoning is, but if he starts screaming, I'd rather our daughter not hear it.”

“Right,” he said awkwardly, shutting the door while he motioned for Draco to head to the sitting room. “Can I do anything?”

“I'll need pruning shears, two pairs of dragonhide gloves, hot water, a few clean flannels, bandages, Calming Draught, and some dittany,” Hermione said, her tone distracted as she watched Draco move Harry, perspiration dotting the blond's forehead while he focused on keeping Harry steady. “And some Blood Replenishing Potion, just in case.”

“Pruning shears?” Weasley asked as he goggled at her, and she scowled at him.

“To cut the arrowhead off, Ronald,” she said crossly. “Hurry up, we don't have time for this.”

“Right,” Weasley said as he darted off, and Draco distantly heard him puttering about, collecting the items Hermione had asked for. At the same time Draco headed for the sitting room, and he gently laid Harry down on the white sheet that had been spread out. He collapsed next to the werewolf, panting hard, while Hermione knelt on his other side, and flicked her wand.

A red light shot out of it, like the illumination cast by _Lumos._ It was narrow, barely a pinprick of light, and as Hermione flashed it over the wound, her entire body seemed to sag with sudden relief.

“What is it?” Draco rasped, and Hermione offered him a weak smile.

“They missed the heart,” she said, laughing through relieved tears as she spoke. “It's punctured his lung, and there's fluid, but that's something we can fix. The levels of silver in his blood are also quite low. It may take a little time, but he'll live through this, I promise.”

Draco slumped forward, sighing with relief of his own while he reached out to touch the back of Harry's hand. His skin was cold and clammy, but twitched when Draco touched him.

“Tell me what to do, Hermione,” Draco said, just as Weasley bustled into the room, his arms overflowing with the requested items.

“Wait...” Weasley said as he skidded to a halt, “ _Malfoy_ is going to help Harry?” he demanded, his eyes wide. “What do _you_ know about healing?”

“Probably more than you,” Draco snapped, and Weasley scowled as he opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione was quick to cut him off.

“Now is _not_ the time,” she interrupted crossly while she stood and snatched the items from Weasley's arms. “Harry can be saved, but we do not have _limitless_ time. The way he is now, if left too long, he could _drown_ in his own blood. You two are to put your bickering on hold, and wait until Harry is fully stabilized. Am I making myself _perfectly_ clear?”

“Yes, Hermione,” both Weasley and Draco mumbled, while Hermione pressed the shears and a pair of dragonhide gloves into Draco's hand. Draco pulled them on and cast a few sterilization charms on his gloved hands as well as the shears, then looked to Hermione for instructions. Under normal circumstances he would have balked at taking orders of any kind from Hermione Granger, of all people, but his pride could wait until after Harry's life wasn't at risk.

“Draco, just snip the arrowhead off, and gently pull out the arrow from the back,” she said patiently. “Now, don't panic, because he will bleed quite a lot from the blood that's collected in his lung. We need to drain it before we can heal it, or the liquid will get trapped there. We'll need to do this fast, so once the arrow's out, apply pressure to the wound at his back, and I'll take care of draining the fluid, okay?”

Draco nodded, and did as she instructed. He snipped off the arrowhead, and then pulled the stick of wood from Harry's back slowly. Harry moaned in pain and Draco grimaced, but he kept his hand steady, though he could not stifle his gasp of surprise as blood, as well as some sort of clear liquid poured heavily from the wound, staining both Harry's chest and back red, as well as the sheet beneath him.

“Don't panic,” Hermione reminded him while she took the arrow from him and pressed the damp flannel into his hand. “This is normal, we won't let him bleed out, but the lung does need to be drained. Press that to his back, and I shall do his front.”

Draco nodded again, and pressed the flannel to the puncture wound upon Harry's back. Harry whimpered and gasped, but showed no other sign of pain, though his breathing was still laboured and shallow.

“Okay, Draco, lie him back, keep the flannel over the wound,” Hermione said, holding her own flannel in her hand, which was stained a dark red. Draco eased Harry onto his back, and bit his lip as he gazed down at the werewolf's face. He was sweaty, his hair was soaked, and he looked very pale. Draco moved to brush a few strands of hair from his eyes on impulse, and left a bloody streak on his cheek in the process. He jerked his hand back in alarm and gazed down at himself. Where had all this blood come from?

“It's all right, Draco,” Hermione said suddenly, her voice soft and consoling, like she was speaking to a spooked animal, “we have the Blood Replenishing Potion, he'll be okay. Stay with me, all right?”

“R-right,” Draco replied shakily, and cleared his throat once as he looked up to her.

“Now, he needs a Blood Washing to get the silver out of his system. If it all collects in his heart, he could...get very sick.”

“Truth,” Draco replied tersely, his voice still trembling as he stared at her. “Don't treat me like a child.”

“Sorry,” Hermione replied, and ducked her head a little, “I'm usually the one comforting the families during emergencies, it's habit. It's not enough to kill him, but if we don't get it out, he could slip into a coma.”

“Then hurry,” Draco snapped, and Hermione nodded once as she lifted her wand, waved it in a low sweeping arc across Harry's torso, and something like bright starlight fell from her wand and sank through Harry's skin. Draco reached out to rub the back of the werewolf's hand with his clean one, and once again Harry's fingers twitched a little, as though he wanted to reach out and take Draco's hand in return, but did not have the strength to do so.

Hermione continued to wave her wand over Harry, muttering under her breath, and suddenly he let out a low moan of pain, and his back arched.

“What's happening?” Draco demanded, “what are you doing?”

“Relax, Draco,” Hermione said calmly, “this is normal, I'm just extracting the silver. Watch.”

From the entry site of the wound, Draco watched as a tiny silver ball lifted from the wound, barely a few millimetres in diameter. The moment that it exited the wound, Draco watched as Harry's body seemed to sag with relief, as though the pain was beginning to ebb.

Draco snatched the tiny ball of silver from the air. He stared down at it, amazed that so small a thing could cause so much pain. He tilted his hand, and it rolled innocently across his gloved palm, leaving a sticky trail of congealed blood in its wake.

“Draco,” Hermione said suddenly, and he glanced up at her, still feeling a little dazed as he held onto the tiny piece of silver. “He's not out of the woods yet. We still have work to do.”

Draco pursed his lips at her choice of idiom, but nodded as he pocketed the silver and accepted the blood replenishing potion that she held out to him.

Draco slipped a hand under Harry's head, and eased him up a little while he brought the vial of potion to his lips.

“Just a little so he doesn't go into shock, Draco,” Hermione warned, “he still has an open wound, too much, and—”

“—and it will be like stepping on an overripe peach,” Draco replied tersely, “I _know.”_

Draco worked Harry's mouth open, and he tipped barely a trickle down his throat. Harry choked and sputtered, but with Draco's thumb massaging his neck he got the potion down, and a small amount of colour returned to Harry's cheeks.

“Okay,” Hermione said, “not we need to drain the fluid in his lung and then close the wound. It won't close all the way with just the dittany, so I have some bandages here...”

“I'll leave the...draining to you. That sounds like more than I am qualified for,” Draco said with a grimace, his knee-jerk determination to not show his weakness paling in comparison to his need to help Harry.

“Now, while I do this, he will probably panic, so we're going to give him a little Calming Draught,” Hermione explained as she held out another vial, this one containing a soft mauve potion. Draco immediately dosed Harry with it, but this time he did not choke, but instead let out a little sigh as Draco massaged his throat and eased it down.

“Your scent will probably also help to keep him relaxed,” Hermione continued while she summoned an empty glass jar and shifted closer to Harry, “so stay as close to him as you feel comfortable.”

Draco nodded, and immediately lay down next to the werewolf. He draped one of his arms across Harry's abdomen gently, and for a moment, Hermione did little more than watch them, a weak, watery smile on her face. Then with a shaky sigh, she pointed her wand at Harry again.

Draco swallowed thickly as he watched Hermione murmured some sort of incantation under her breath, and immediately the bottle next to her began to fill with a thin, blood-red liquid.

“Eugh, Hermione, what _is_ that stuff?” Weasley demanded, but Hermione did not answer, her gaze focused entirely upon the task at hand. She continued to murmur, the bottle continued to fill, until near the lip it finally stopped, just as Harry's back arched violently, and he began to gasp for breath.

“Hold him steady, Draco!” Hermione cried, “I just need to close the holes in his lung and re-inflate it!”

“...I think I'm going to puke,” Weasley said while he raced from the room, though Draco hardly noticed him as he tried to pin Harry to the sheet, but the werewolf blood had made him too strong. Draco grunted as he was thrown off the brunet, and his temple collided with the sharp edge of the coffee table, hard enough to cut a deep gouge in the skin and daze him, but not enough to knock him out. Draco turned back to Harry, and he conjured a set of iron cuffs set into the floor that wrapped around the werewolf's wrists and ankles. A lupine howl of fear and pain slipped past his lips as he struggled against the bindings, but for the moment they seemed to be holding.

_Though not for long, if that ominous creaking is anything to go by_ , Draco thought with a wince as he sat up, and his head spun.

“Nearly there,” Hermione cried, “just hang on, Harry, you're gonna be okay!”

Harry did not seem to hear her, and continued to thrash in the cuffs, while Draco crawled forward, ignoring the aching in his skull and the way his vision swam as he came to a stop next to Harry, and reached out to touch his hair.

Draco had assumed that Harry would be well beyond reason, too lost in his agony to notice anything outside of himself, but the moment Draco touched him, he went completely still.

“ _M-mate_...” Harry wheezed, then slumped down in the cuffs—though whether it was a motion of defeat or comfort, Draco could not tell.

“I'm here,” Draco murmured, his cheeks flaring pink as he acknowledged the title, “everything will be all right, Harry, just relax...”

Harry whined, the sound wolfish and odd to hear coming from someone human in shape, but he did not move as Hermione continued her work, then at last fell back with a gasp. She held out to dittany to Draco, but he was too dizzy to handle it, and she applied the potion to the entry and exit wounds herself before she covered both injuries with white bandages.

“Okay, Draco, all finished, we can release him,” Hermione panted while she vanished the jar of fluid, and began to siphon the drying blood off Harry's chest. When she'd finished, she added, “let me have a look at that cut of yours, and then the two of you can rest in the guest room.”

Draco sat up, and winced when the world swirled around him. He could feel a wetness upon his face, and when he glanced down at Harry, he could see a large, shining bloodstain upon the side of the werewolf's chest where he had been laying. How is it that he had bled so much from so small a cut?

“Hmm...” Hermione leant in and dabbed a little dittany to Draco's temple, and he felt the distinct tickle of the potion knitting his skin back together. At the same time, the trainee healer gazed into his eyes, her brow furrowed, then cleaned up the blood from his face with a few quick flicks of her wand. “Looks like you have a mild concussion,” she said, “so I want you to rest with Harry, the bed should be big enough for you both.”

“If I didn't know any better,” Draco rasped, “I'd say this whole thing was a ploy to get us together.”

“Even I am not mad enough to nearly kill my best friend over something like _that_ ,” she replied with a small giggle, and she flicked her wand at Harry, removing the cuffs, and conjured a stretcher to carry them both. “Come on, then,” she said, “off to bed with the two of you.”

Using her wand, Hermione conducted the stretcher into the guest room. Despite Draco's protests that he could climb into the bed himself, the witch ignored him and levitated both Draco and Harry into the bed with the practised gentleness of her profession. Harry did not respond to any of the movement, but he did shiver a little, and Draco immediately conjured a pair of pyjamas for him. Hermione, instead of leaving them to rest, sat at the bedside and offered Draco a small, apologetic smile.

“You need to stay awake for a few hours, just to make sure that that concussion of yours won't cause further injury,” she explained. “Most Healers think it's better to let damage like this heal on its own, instead of magically, since the mind is so delicate.”

“Oh,” Draco replied with a faint grimace. He didn't quite know what to say, only that he would have rather been allowed to sleep. “I...see.”

“Want to talk?”

“Not really.”

“Draco, come on, isn't it right that I be able to have a nice, civilized chat with my new...brother-in-law?” she asked, grinning at him, and Draco felt his face burn at the implication.

“We're not...I mean, he's not...oh, just shut up, Hermione,” Draco grumbled, and Hermione answered with a giggle.

The trio sat in relative silence, with Hermione trying more than once to engage Draco in conversation, only to have him pointedly ignore her or give her a short answer. It wasn't that he was angry with her—not in the strictest sense, at least—but he wanted to be alone with Harry, and she was too busy ensuring that he didn't die in his sleep (or something to that effect) to do that.

 

It was more than a few hours later that Hermione finally got up and set down three potion vials on the bedside table while she said, “when he wakes up, make sure that he takes these. It's Blood Replenishing Potion and Silver Antitoxin, as well as Dreamless Sleep Potion, if he needs it.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Draco said as he relaxed next to Harry, draping an arm over his werewolf in the process. She smiled warmly at him and began to make her way out of the room, while Draco bit his lip, and called out to her one last time.

“Erm...Hermione?”

“Yes?” she asked as she paused and turned back, her hand on the door's frame as she spoke.

“Those poachers...they weren't after Harry specifically...were they?”

“I don't think so,” she replied with a small, reassuring smile. “I didn't recognize them, at any rate. Get some sleep, Draco, we'll talk more tomorrow.”

Draco nodded, and laid his head down on the pillow. He watched over Harry until he dropped off to sleep, and curled around his werewolf protectively as he did so, unwilling to let anyone or any _thing_ harm his precious mate ever again.

 


	9. Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 22nd. Enjoy! :) Ten points to the reader who spots where I shamelessly ripped off Monty Python, hee hee.

Chapter Nine – Mates

The following day, Draco woke suddenly to a sharp pain lancing through his head, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that Harry was beginning to stir.

The light from the open window made Draco's eyes twinge, and he groaned as he sat up a little, making his head spin from the sudden movement. He ignored it as best he could, while he watched Harry's eyelids twitch for a moment before they flicked open.

Harry stared up blankly at the ceiling as he blinked hard, and his brow knitted with confusion as he stared up at Draco. His mouth opened as though to speak, but no sound came out.

“Welcome back,” Draco finally said, but the statement did not seem to assuage any of Harry's confusion.

“What...what happened?” Harry rasped as he moved to sit up, but froze almost immediately as he clamped a hand to his chest, his face contorted with pain.

“What do you remember?” Draco asked, while he moved to ease Harry back down on the bed. “Try not to move, you were hurt pretty badly. I have a couple potions here that Hermione wanted you to take.”

“I remember...” Harry trailed off as he grimaced, nodding to Draco's latter statement, and Draco scooped up the Blood-Replenishing Potion and Silver Antitoxin off the bedside table as Harry spoke. “We were in the forest, talking...no, _arguing_. Then pain, and shouting, and your scent...”

“Open up,” Draco commanded, and Harry obeyed. Draco cradled the back of the werewolf's head while he tipped the potions down his throat one at a time, and Harry visibly shuddered from the taste.

Harry settled back down against the mattress after he'd recovered from the taste of the potions, while Draco eased down next to him and pecked him lightly on the lips.

“You were attacked by poachers,” he explained, “one of them got you, pierced your lung with a silver arrow. I don't really understand why they would attack you in your human form if they wanted your pelt—”

“Strategy,” Harry interrupted, his voice a little hoarse, “our healing powers are stronger in wolf form. Even though most can force the change outside of the full moon, it still takes a lot of strength to do it. Poachers often will attack when we're in human form, then wait for us to change, and sneak up on us and do the killing blow the second we've finished transforming, because we're usually disoriented for a moment after the change completes.”

“That's...awful.” Draco winced at how insincere he sounded, but Harry seemed to understand it as he offered Draco a small smile.

“Yeah, it is,” Harry said as he shifted a little closer to Draco, wincing as he did so, and rested an arm lazily across the blond's hips. “And what happened after I got shot with the arrow?”

“Hermione and I took you back here, removed the arrow, and fixed your lung,” Draco explained as he stared into Harry's eyes, and shivered unintentionally. Even in a weakened state, Harry stared at him with a deep longing, while he seemed to radiate strength. How was it, that even in a weakened state, Harry could seem so _powerful_?

“So you saved my life,” Harry filled in, and Draco felt himself flush a little under Harry's intense stare. He wasn't even certain _why_ he was going red from such a simple statement, which only worsened when Harry moved his hand from his hip to Draco's cheek, and brushed his fingers along the skin gently. “Thank you.”

“It...it was nothing,” Draco muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his spot as he spoke, but he immediately regretted it when his head spun again.

“That doesn't sound very much like the Draco Malfoy that I know,” Harry remarked teasingly, “are you feeling okay?”

“This must be some sort of concussion crazy-talk,” Draco remarked, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him, inviting him to explain. “During the course of tending to you, you needed to be held down, but like some sort of fool, I tried to do it physically instead of magically, and in your panicked state, you threw me into a table.”

“Oh.” Harry winced. “I'm sorry. Are you all right?”

“I'll live,” he replied, and Harry smiled at him apologetically.

“I'm still sorry, though,” Harry said as he reached out to brush a stray hair from Draco's eyes. “I'd never consciously do anything to hurt you.”

“Except hold me captive in a cave, right?” Draco asked dryly, and winced when he spotted the stricken look that crossed the werewolf's face. “Oh, damn it, I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean that—”

“—yes you did,” Harry interrupted with a weak smile, “but that's all right, it's not like it's not true.”

“I think once both of us can leave this bed, we'll need to properly start this thing over,” Draco said softly, while he reached out a hesitant hand to touch Harry's cheek, and the werewolf offered him a warm smile. “It feels so strangely _right_ , being with you, I can't explain it...”

“I've told you,” Harry said, “it's because we're _mates._ We're _meant_ for each other.”

“But what does that even _mean_?” Draco asked weakly. “You keep saying that, but soulmates don't exist, I know that they don't.”

“It's something simpler than that,” Harry explained, while he leant in for a gentle kiss, which Draco was happy to return. Harry pulled him close and turned him gently, manipulating his position until Draco was spooned against Harry's hard chest, and the werewolf wrapped an arm around his human, holding him close—or perhaps ensuring that he wouldn't escape.

This time however, Draco didn't want to.

“The way that it was explained to me was it's sort of like pheromones,” Harry said, his voice a low, almost sinful purr that made Draco shiver involuntarily. “When we smell a mate that will be ideal for us—meaning, has the strength to keep up with us, the willpower to match a their mate, and if it's a heterosexual attraction, provide healthy cubs, and so on, we will feel drawn to that person. Remus probably felt it with Tonks, but I doubt he knew what it meant, since he tried so hard to deny what he was...but, I know that I feel it for you, Draco. You're meant to be with me, and I can feel it down to my very bones. It doesn't mean we have no choice, and it doesn't mean we _have_ to be together, but I know that I won't give up on you without a fight. Now that I have you, I have no intention of letting you go.”

“I should be angry about you saying that,” Draco muttered as he pressed himself back against Harry more firmly. “But instead it makes me feel...safe. Is that bad?”

“I don't think so,” Harry replied as he nuzzled at the crook of Draco's neck lovingly. “It means you're finally accepting this...accepting _me_. Is that really so bad?”

“I'm not sure,” Draco replied, toying with a loose thread on the bedsheet as he spoke. “There's that...that... _thing_. Something Syndrome, where you fall in love with your captor?”

“You weren't exactly _captive_ for that long,” Harry pointed out, “you slipped out of my grasp pretty quickly, and still you rescued me when I got shot.”

“Even the most callous person in the sodding universe would have rescued you,” Draco replied, his face tinting pink as he spoke. “No one is cruel enough to leave you lying there.”

“I don't know,” Harry mused as he lifted a hand to Draco's hair, and stroked it idly, like he was a cat. Draco was half-tempted to protest it, but it felt too nice, and he leant into the gentle touches with a soft sigh of contentment. “Voldemort probably would have left me there, or danced while I died, and those poachers probably would have flayed me alive the moment I turned to save myself, or—”

“—okay, okay, I'm your hero, you owe me your life, I'm you're knight in shining bloody armour, do you have to keep going on about it?” Draco demanded, which caused Harry to snort with laughter.

“My _hero_ ,” he purred, and shifted to kiss Draco cheek gently. Draco smiled despite himself, and relaxed into the comforting embrace.

~*~

At first, it had been quite comforting, lying with Harry and dozing. They would wake only long enough to take their potions that Hermione brought them with some sort of food, but as the first day faded and gave way to the second, Draco began to get a little restless. Unfortunately, even sitting up was still enough to make his vision waver, and so he was stuck in bed, much to his frustration. Hermione had even had the audacity to cast the Bedpan Charm on the both of them, meaning that they did not even need to get up to use the toilet, thus eliminating any need Draco had to get out of bed and shake off some of his restlessness.

“Bored?” Harry asked around midday, not long after Hermione had left with the remnants of their lunch.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. Want to play a game?”

“Like what?” Draco asked as he rolled over to face Harry, who was smiling at him warmly, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Considering both of us are condemned to this bed, I'm pretty sure Quidditch is out.”

“How about Twenty Questions, but the kind where instead of us guessing some sort of item or what have you, you have to answer questions about yourself, but if you lie, I can make you do something, and then you ask me some questions about me, and if _I_ lie, you can make _me_ do something.”

“Okay, what sort of _something_?” Draco asked as he arched a brow, and Harry offered him a sly, wolfish grin, which caused Draco to roll his eyes.

“Not much call for me to be truthful if you're going to jump straight to _that_ ,” Draco pointed out, and Harry snorted.

“Come on, be a good sport,” Harry said, “I'll behave myself. It's not like we can do much anyway—if our heart rates go too high, Hermione will probably come bursting in here unannounced.”

“Maybe when we're both better, we can up the ante,” Draco said with a sly smirk of his own, and Harry grinned. “But no biting.”

“No biting,” Harry agreed, and nodded a little. “Shall I start?”

“Yeah. It was your idea, so it makes sense that you interrogate me first,” Draco replied, and Harry chuckled a little as he nodded his head.

“Favourite colour?”

“Black,” Draco replied, and Harry laughed.

“That's a shade, not a colour,” he pointed out, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Fine, dark green.”

“Could you _be_ any more of a Slytherin stereotype?”

“Shut up and get on with your questions,” Draco retorted as he playfully swatted Harry's shoulder, and he chuckled warmly.

“Okay...favourite kind of jam?”

“Oddly specific...okay, blackberry.”

“Favourite place to go on a Sunday?”

“Nowhere. That is _Stay in With Tea and Biscuits_ day.”

“You're stranded on a desert island, and you can only bring three things with you. What do you bring?”

“A bottle of rum, a hatchet, and a _How to Build a Raft_ book.”

“My mate is so smart,” Harry teased, and moved in to offer him a light kiss. Draco felt himself flush, but he was happy to return the show of affection without complaint.

The questions continued. At first, they stayed innocent, and seemed to be mostly about food. _Favourite flavour of ice-cream – chocolate-hazelnut, least favourite fruit – passion fruit, favourite animal – the golden eagle, favourite potion to brew – the Draught of Peace,_ and so on. However, towards the second half of the questioning, Harry's curiosities took a turn for the more serious.

“What was it like being on the Death Eater Trials?”

“You seriously want to know?” Draco asked back, his stomach churning with unease as the memories of his trial began to bloom at the back of his mind.

“Yeah,” Harry replied earnestly, “I want to know everything about you.”

“They were horrific. Next question,” Draco snapped, and Harry frowned at him.

“Draco...”

“ _What?_ ” Draco growled, and Harry's frown deepened. “What do you want me to say? That they were horrible, humiliating, that every single misdeed I've ever done was laid out on a table as a group of fiftysomething witches and wizards, _including_ former professors cross-examined me like some sort of petty criminal, or how I was blamed for Crabbe's death, and the torture of the Dark Lord's captives, regardless that I was _forced_ to do it?”

“I'm sorry,” Harry said quickly, and drew Draco into a close embrace when he began to tremble, the memories of that time beginning to overwhelm him. “I'm sorry I asked, sweetheart.”

“Don't call me sweetheart,” Draco muttered against Harry's shoulder, squirming a little as he let Harry hold him—he didn't like how the nickname seemed to release a swarm of butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

“Sugar plum,” Harry offered, and Draco snorted.

“No,” he replied, and Harry offered him a slightly teasing grin.

“Pussycat.”

“ _No_.”

“Angel drawers.”

“No you may _not_.”

“Can I call you Frank?”

Draco pulled back a little and stared at Harry, who offered him a remarkably silly grin.

“Why Frank?”

“Frank's a nice name,” Harry said innocently. “Kingsley Shacklebolt had a hedgehog called Frank.”

“He did not, you liar,” Draco scoffed, and then his eyes widened as he pointed at Harry. “Oh, you lied! That means I get to make you do something!”

Harry paused, his mouth open in a gormless albeit strangely familiar expression, then he chuckled as he offered Draco a warm, sweet sort of smile.

“Okay, fair,” Harry replied. “What would you like me to do?”

Draco eyed Harry for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he debated what to ask of him. Most curiously, he had no desire to ask Harry to do anything repulsive or humiliating, like he may have done back in their school days.

_Of course, that's probably because our relationship is a little different than it used to be_ , Draco mused as he offered Harry a small smirk, and leant in close.

“Kiss me, with tongue, but you're not allowed to touch me with your hands,” Draco commanded, and his smirk widened when Harry gasped in surprise.

“Oh, I like this punishment,” Harry said, his voice low and husky as he reached for Draco, but he caught the werewolf's wrist before he got very far.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Draco admonished teasingly. “I said _no touching_.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry replied, “You're just so hard to resist...”

“Kiss me, Potter.”

Harry obeyed, his lips moulding to Draco's in a toe-curling, mind-numbing kiss. His lips were a little damp, and his wicked, limber tongue pried Draco's mouth open with ease, before it darted in and sought out Draco's and massaged against it tenderly, pulling a soft groan from Draco, while he longed to do more than just kiss his werewolf companion.

“Sweet Circe,” Draco breathed against Harry's mouth, “your snogging ability is positively _criminal_.”

Harry offered Draco another sly grin, and pecked his lips again before he added, “in light of my massive verbal slight, maybe you should take a turn with the questions.”

“Hmm...” Draco eased back, pillowing his head against Harry's bicep as he thought of where to begin, and then it came to him as he asked, “how did you not get expelled when I told Filch where you'd be when we were supposed to have that duel in first year?”

“That's a _long_ story,” Harry replied with a chuckle, and Draco smirked at him.

“Summarize it, then.”

“Me, Ron, Neville, and Hermione got hopelessly lost and ran into Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed-dog. We ran all over the castle just barely avoiding Filch thanks in no small part to Peeves, and somehow made it back to the tower without being detected.”

“I think that story deserves a fuller telling at another time, when don't I have so many questions for the _Famous Harry Potter_...” Harry winced a the title, but Draco ignored it as he pressed forward.

“Favourite food?”

“Are we talking sweets or real food?”

“Both.”

“Okay...er, I guess fresh deer and treacle tart.”

“ _Fresh deer?_ ” Draco demanded as he wrinkled his nose, and Harry chuckled.

“Yeah. It's great in the winter. The blood is still hot by the time we get it back to our territory, so we can drink it as we eat the organs and meat. It's better than a cuppa tea on a cold day.”

“That is...disgusting.”

“Werewolf, remember?” Harry teased, “we don't usually eat cooked meat—it's better raw.”

“I can't recall ever seeing Lupin at the High Table eating a platter of bloody meat,” Draco remarked, and Harry chuckled as he snuggled closer to Draco.

“I can't speak for him,” Harry said simply. “Only my pack, and how we operate. Even Teddy loves a fresh kill. It's so cute, seeing him rip into the fresh kidneys, blood all over his face—”

“—stop, _stop_ ,” Draco interrupted and he brought a hand to his mouth. “You keep up that talk, and I might _actually_ be sick.”

“Sorry,” Harry replied with a grin. “You want another kiss to make up for it?”

“After knowing where that mouth has been? Not likely.” Draco paused, and rolled over pointedly. “Rub my back instead.”

“Hmm, I love it when you get commanding...it's sexy,” Harry purred, making Draco shiver a little as the werewolf hiked up his shirt and pressed a hand to his lower back, and immediately began to trail the limb downwards.

“Last I checked, my arse was not my back,” Draco pointed out as Harry gave the left cheek a firm squeeze.

“Sorry,” Harry said, though he didn't sound very sorry. “It's just so perfect, like a peach...you can't help but squeeze it.” Harry pinched his arse again, and Draco yelped in surprise as he instinctively jerked away from the werewolf, but he merely chuckled and grabbed Draco by the waist, and pulled him flush against his chest once more.

“Is it too soon to say _I love you_?” Harry asked suddenly as he held Draco close, his hot breath tickling the side of Draco's throat pleasantly as they lay there. Draco felt a bolt of pleasure run through him, and he pressed himself more securely against Harry's chest while he closed his eyes.

“Probably,” Draco replied softly, “but I'll let it go just this once.”


	10. Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So sorry for the delay, guys! Here is chapter ten, and I hope you guys like it :) Next update will be April 5th.

Chapter Ten – Mirror

 

“I don't like this, Harry,” Draco said, and Harry cocked his head to the side a little like a curious puppy.

“Don't like what?” he asked innocently, and Draco glared at him.

“You know what,” he replied sourly as he crossed his arms and looked out across the garden. “You were hurt not even a full fortnight ago, and now you plan to run all the way back to your pack? Does that strike you as a _good_ idea?”

“You forgot the part where you come with me on my back,” Harry teased, and Draco's scowl deepened.  “Look, I may not be at my best, but I'm healthy enough to run again. Besides, I don't like the idea of leaving Teddy alone for much longer. I mean, the pack is more than capable of taking care of him, but it's not the same as me—his godfather, in case you've forgotten.”

“I haven't forgotten that Teddy is your godson, since you bring it up at least every five minutes, but that's not the point—risking your life for some silly werewolf arrogance isn't worth it!”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but before any sound came out, his expression softened, and Harry offered Draco a warm smile.

“What are you staring at?” Draco asked as Harry continued to smile. He crossed the foot of space between them, and wrapped his arms around the human's waist gently.

“You,” Harry purred. “I like it when you worry about me.”

“I am _not_ worried about you,” Draco scoffed as Harry tugged him closer and began to trail the tip of his nose along the side of Draco's throat in something of a _werewolf kiss_. “Since you're being so damn stubborn about how we get back to the pack, I'd rather we not have to stop every ten minutes for you to rest...”

Draco trailed off, and shivered when Harry's wicked tongue replaced his nose, and Draco bit his lip to swallow a soft groan.

“Harry...” he whimpered, and Harry chuckled softly as he offered Draco's arse a small squeeze.

“Relax, sweetheart, we have time...”

“I am not letting you have your werewolf way with me in Hermione and Weasley's front garden,” Draco protested, just as someone clearing their throat drew the attention of the couple, and both Draco and Harry turned to see Hermione, Rose in one arm, and her other hand pointedly covering the little girl's eyes.

“ _Sweetheart?_ ” she finally asked, her eyebrows so high that they were at risk of disappearing into her hair.

“Shut up, Hermione,” said both Harry and Draco at the same time.

“Mummy, I can't thsee!”

“ _Good_.”

“We were just _kissing_ ,” Harry protested innocently, while his hand dropped none-too-subtly to Draco's arse, and gave it a squeeze. The blond glared and swatted his arm, and Harry grinned. 

“You two are terrible,” she said, finally lifting her hand from Rose's eyes when Harry moved his arm back to Draco's waist. “I do hope you don't plan on doing all that in front of poor Teddy.”

“Don't you tell me how to raise my godson,” Harry said, his voice light, but laced with warning. “It's a different culture, Hermione, you'd do well to remember that.”

Hermione pursed her lips, clearly intending to protest, but she—miraculously—resisted the urge when Draco shook his head a little at her as though to say, _don't bother_.

“Well,” Harry said suddenly as he broke the awkward silence, “we best get going. I'd like to be home as soon as possible.”

“You take care of yourself, Harry,” Hermione said as he crossed the garden and offered him a hug, which he returned with a small smile. “And come visit, if you can. I'd love to see Teddy again.”

“Yeah, mate,” Weasley said as he exited the house to join his wife, and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Don't be a stranger.”

“I'll see,” Harry replied with a soft chuckle, “Teddy is pretty nervous round wizards, so it might take a bit of coaxing...”

“Yeah, but times have changed since you've been away, mate, make sure he knows that.”

“It seems I missed a lot in my self-imposed exile,” Harry mused as he stepped back to rejoin Draco, and placed a hand at the human's waist.

“It was for the best, I still believe that,” Hermione interjected firmly, while little Rose popped her thumb into her mouth as she listened to the adults talk. “Back then, things were... _bad_. It was safer that you disappear with Teddy.”

“Whoth's Theddy?” Rose interrupted around her thumb. “Ith he a puppy too?”

“Yes, love,” Hermione said with a small laugh, “he's Harry's godson, and a Metamorphmagus.”

“What's a Meta—meta—meta...” she screwed up her face, “Meta-moff-magic?”

“It means he can change how he looks whenever he wants,” Harry explained with a small smile. “Maybe one day you and he can meet.”

“It's okay,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Boys never play right. But he can come play if he'th a puppy like you.”

“We'll keep that in mind,” Draco said with a soft chuckle of his own as he hefted his rucksack onto his shoulder with a soft grunt. Harry shifted his gaze to his mate and rolled his eyes as his eyes fell to the designer bag.

“What on _earth_ do you need all that stuff for, anyway?” Harry demanded suddenly, apparently forgetting the presence of his friends as he stared at the bag. “I can get you whatever you need, you didn't need to go to your flat and get all that stuff.”

“It's just the bare necessities,” Draco retorted, “are we going to have this discussion _again_?”

“ _Bare necessities,_ ” Harry scoffed, “how is that many hair potions _necessary_?”

“Contrary to what you may have been led to believe, one cannot roll out of bed and look this gorgeous,” Draco drawled, “it takes _work_.”

“Let it go, mate,” Weasley said the same moment that Harry opened his mouth to respond. “Even for you, there are some battles you just can't win.”

Draco snorted, but decided to not reply to that particular jibe. Harry turned to him, and kissed Draco once before he disappeared behind a tree.

Harry saved Rose from seeing him starkers, but there was nothing to stop her from hearing the sick crunching of bone as Harry transformed. All the adults winced at the sound, but Rose did not react to it beyond blinking owlishly, as though she didn't understand what the big deal was.

Harry reappeared in the form of his wolf, and he was just as big and intimidating as before. He carried his bunched up clothes in his mouth, and Draco relieved the werewolf of them while Hermione set Rose down on the grass, and the girl hurried forward to throw herself at Harry in a big hug.

“Bye-bye, Princess Cupcake,” she said, her voice slightly muffled as she buried her face in Harry's fur, “will you come back and play soon? Like tomorrow?”

Harry let out a huff that could have been a yes, and licked Rose's cheek while Draco packed away Harry's clothes in his bag. Rose whimpered and hugged Harry more tightly, and the werewolf nuzzled her consolingly.

“Of course Harry will come visit you, Rosie,” Weasley said, his voice quavering a little as he spoke, though Draco could not tell if it was from trying to stifle laughter, or tears. “As long as he promises to keep his teeth to himself.”

Harry growled at the same moment that Draco rolled his eyes, and the ginger backed up a little in a alarm. Hermione rolled her eyes at the same time that Draco did, but at the moment, did not speak on Weasley's apparent prejudice of Harry's species. If the look in her eyes was any indication however, she planned to give Weasley an earful when her daughter wasn't present.

Harry licked Rose's cheek again, and the little girl giggled as Harry slowly backed away from her and moved over to Draco. He bowed his head and nosed at Draco's hand, whining a little until he caved and ran his fingers through the soft black fur.

His tail wagging a little, Harry licked Draco's palm once, then bowed forward a little to allow Draco to climb onto him.

Feeling slightly awkward, Draco straightened his rucksack on his back before he stepped closer to the wolf and threw one leg over Harry's mid-back, while he gently grabbed handfuls of Harry's fur, and turned to Hermione, Rose, and Ron.

“Well...” Draco began, “erm...thank you, I suppose, for everything, especially helping me tend to Harry. He would have died otherwise.”

“Harry's our best friend, of course we're happy to help,” Hermione said with a warm smile, and Ron inclined his head a little.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “no matter if Harry's human or not, we'd never let him die from something as simple as an arrow to the chest.”

Harry growled softly, but though Draco felt that it wasn't a threatening sound, both Hermione and Ron froze, their eyes going a little wide.

_Perhaps it's a mates thing,_ Draco mused as he ran his hand along Harry's furry back, _that I know he's telling me to hurry it along so that we can get going._

He debated explaining this all to the couple still standing there, while Hermione clung nervously to her daughter and Ron had a protective arm around them, but he felt that it might take too long. Instead, he bid them a quick farewell with a nod of his head, then grabbed hold of Harry's fur again, and the wolf ran for the woods.

Draco had never seen Harry run, but even with recovering from such a grievous wound, Harry ran like the wind.

His paws barely touched the ground, and his stride was quick-footed and light. Draco had seen large dogs run before, and he had always felt that it was more like the gallop of a horse than anything else. In contrast, Harry's wolf form moved like a true hunter, and he ran through the woods silently, less like a living animal, and more like he was a shadow; fast and silent.

Draco's hair whipped out of his face, and he held tightly to Harry, but there was almost no reason for him to do so, given that despite the speed with which Harry ran, he never felt jostled or like he might be bucked off.

Harry shot through the small wood in less than an hour, crossed a farmer's goat pasture, and continued on to the woods that bracketed a small village. The goats bleated as they passed, but the creatures did not sound alarmed by Harry and Draco's presence. Draco found this particularly odd, but in their current position, he couldn't exactly ask Harry about it. Instead, he hung on tighter as Harry ran up a steep incline, down the other side, and delved deeper into the woods.

Harry ran until dawn, when he stopped at a cave not unlike the ones back at the pack's territory, and let Draco climb off on wobbly legs before he inspected the space, then seemed to deem it an appropriate pit-stop, and stepped back out, only to nudge Draco inside.

Without any sort of vocalization, Harry waited until Draco was settled inside before he circled the cavern in a wide arc and relieved himself a few times, marking the area and protecting Draco before he disappeared into the shadows of dawn, as quickly as a candle being snuffed out.

Oddly, Draco had a feeling that he knew Harry was off to get something for them to eat. Draco didn't like the idea of Harry running off alone when he was still recovering from the attack, but Draco had no way to convey this to him, given how quickly the werewolf had dumped him alone in the woods before running off.

“He better come back,” Draco muttered to himself as he dropped his bag next to him and drew his knees to his chest as he sat down on the leaf-strewn floor of the cavern, “if he leaves me here, I'll hex his bollocks off...”

Luckily, Harry did not leave him in the middle of the woods for long, and still in his wolf form, he trotted back to him not half an hour later, dragging a young buck along with him.

Harry dropped it at Draco's feet, and Draco offered the huge wolf a small smirk.

“You're not a half-bad hunter, I'll give you that,” Draco said, and Harry whined, causing Draco to roll his eyes. “Speak to me with your human mouth, will you?”

Harry whined again, but got up and transformed back, his face shiny with sweat as Draco began to dig a knife out of his bag to skin the deer with. He looked more tired as a human than he had as a wolf, and Draco eyed him oddly.

“What?” Harry asked as he plopped down with Draco, completely unconcerned that he was still naked.

“Why do you look more fatigued in your human form than you do in your wolf form?” Draco asked, and Harry offered him a small smile, as though the answer was obvious.

“I told you before,” Harry said casually, “well...sort of. Don't you remember?”

“I can't recall, no.”

“I heal faster in my wolf form, and so my wolf does not feel the strain as much as I do when I'm like this,” Harry explained patiently as he fished in Draco's bag for his clothing, and tugged on his trousers before he pulled a wickedly sharp knife from one of the pockets, and tugged his kill from Draco's hands began to skillfully skin it. Draco shrugged helplessly, and put his own knife away as Harry continued to speak. “It's not really that uncommon for werewolves who have been badly injured to stay in their wolf form for days, sometimes weeks afterwards.”

“You won't be stuck that way if you do that?” Draco asked curiously, and Harry grinned a little.

“No, we won't,” he replied as he chuckled softly, and lifted a hand in the air, waved it vaguely, and Draco watched with quiet astonishment as dozens of pieces of dry wood flew towards them like spears, and stacked themselves neatly at Harry's side as he finished skinning the animal, and then proceeded to dismember it.

Harry then speared the pieces of meat, and held them in one hand while he waved his opposite hand at the fire, and it ignited immediately. Harry's arm muscle bulged slightly from holding all the meat with one arm, and Draco tried to keep from staring at it with little success while Harry propped up the skewers around the edges of the flames before he proceeded to ate the kidneys and liver raw—much to Draco's disgust.

“What?” Harry asked thickly as he tore into the second kidney, and Draco wrinkled his nose again.

“That. Is. _Disgusting,_ ” Draco said, frowning at Harry. “ _Must_ you eat the raw meat like that?”

“It's how werewolves eat,” Harry pointed out patiently, “you better get used to it, considering where we're going. Even if you are my mate, the rest of the pack won't appreciate that reaction to them eating.”

“What reaction?”

“That look on your face like I just ate actual shit or something,” Harry said simply as he scooped up the  liver again, siphoned off the dirt with a little more wordless, wandless magic, and bit into it. “It's how we eat, that's all there is to it.”

“It's a good thing you're pretty,” Draco grumbled, “because regardless if it's _natural_ or not, it's still revolting.”

Harry offered him a bloody grin, and Draco rolled his eyes.

After Harry had eaten, he took up the skin and stretched it out between four long, strong branches, and tied it in place, presumably to dry it. Draco tried to keep from watching as he plucked a cooked skewer from the fire and began to eat as well; the meat was sweet and wild-tasting, and thankfully more than enough to distract him from the memory of Harry's horrific dinner table habits.

Once they had finished eating, Harry wrapped the leftover cooked meat in a cloth and cast a few charms on it—preservation charms, Draco supposed—and Harry showed Draco to the river, where he could wash his face and hands, and have a drink.

Clean, full, and satisfied, Harry and Draco meandered back to their camp hand in hand, and Draco cast a few cushioning charms on the ground near to the fire, before he lay back down with Harry at his back.

Warm and safe and with the comforting feeling of Harry's fingers trailing through his hair, he quickly dropped off to sleep. It was more peaceful than Draco could ever recall feeling before, and despite the fact that he was laying on the ground, and had not had a proper shower or bath yet that day, he found that he had no protests to the sleeping arrangements as he rolled over and pressed his cheek to the side of Harry's chest, sighing softly as Harry chuckled and drew him a little closer, and Draco could not recall the last time he had felt so perfect and complete.

 

~*~

 

When Draco next woke it was dusk, and he blinked blearily at Harry, who was carefully folding the deerskin and packing it away. He could not recall ever seeing a deerskin dry that fast before, but he supposed that Harry had used some sort of charm to speed up the process.

“Evening, sleepyhead,” Harry teased, and held out a skewer of venison to him. “Hungry?”

“My stomach hasn't woken up yet, give me a moment,” Draco said groggily as he sat up and patted at his hair, smoothing it as best he could without a mirror and comb.

“You're so adorable like this,” Harry said, his voice struck with awe, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Like what, exactly?”

“Like _this_ ,” Harry said again as he gestured vaguely with his arms. “Half asleep, with your hair all sticky-uppy.”

“Sticky-uppy isn't a word,” Draco pointed out distractedly, while he yawned and dug into his bag, but couldn't find his mirror or comb in the tangled mess. With a defeated sigh, he flopped back against the cave wall, and accepted one of the venison skewers that Harry was still holding. “How much farther is it to your pack?”

“ _Our_ pack,” Harry corrected, and offered Draco a small smile. “And it's still a little way's away. Maybe another day and a half if I really leg it. We're really remote.”

“You really don't want to be found,” Draco observed between bites, and Harry smiled humorlessly.

“We used to be a nomadic pack,” Harry said, “one of my pack members, Nina, she ran from her old pack, but they wanted her back—or one of the males did, anyway. We had to keep moving to keep him from finding her.”

“You are quite...devoted to them,” Draco said, and Harry smiled again.

“Everyone deserves a place where they feel safe,” Harry said simply. “At one time or another, pretty much everyone needs it—that safety. My pack more than most. My protection of them means they're very protective of me by default—it's a family. Yours too, now that you've accepted me.”

“Will they...” Draco trailed off, grimacing as he thought of how to best voice his question. He didn't want to sound afraid, but given that he was about to step into a wolf pack as the only human, it was impossible to fully quash the fear that he was feeling. “I mean...will they begrudge me for my behaviour before?”

“Some might,” Harry replied with a slight nod, “I know a few were nervous before because of your family, but once they get to know you, they'll love you like I do.”

Draco nearly dropped his skewer of meat as he gazed across the cavern at Harry, who was smiling to himself as he tidied up their mess from earlier, and went about making sure the fire was out, and dispersing the ashes.

_How could Harry say that so casually?_ Draco wondered, _as though he was doing nothing more than remarking on the weather?_

“You love me?” Draco blurted out after a moment of silence.

“I said it before, remember?”

“I know, but...” Draco grimaced as he trailed off, and tossed the finished skewer into Harry's pile of refuse. The werewolf did not seem to notice however as he inched closer to Draco, closing the distance between them in a few quick movements.

“Did you think I was lying?” Harry asked as he cocked his head to the side, “or exaggerating, or something?”

“I don't know...” Draco mumbled, and he felt his face flush red as he looked away from Harry, who had begun to grin. He caught Draco's chin between his thumb and forefinger, and slowly turned him back to face him, and offered him a light kiss.

“I meant it—I love you,” Harry said softly as he kissed him again. “And I will always protect you, even if it's from my own pack. Understand?”

“But _why_?” Draco asked, and he grimaced at the edge of desperation in his tone. In truth, he didn't even know why he was asking—he felt as though he loved Harry too, and that this was right, and it felt so _good_ to be with him, but why would someone like _Harry_ put everything on the line for someone like _him_?

“Why would I love you, or why would I protect you?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side again as he spoke, and lifted a hand to cradle the side of Draco's jaw, while his thumb brushed gently over his cheekbone in a comforting caress.

“Both—all of it,” Draco replied in a rush. “I love you too—or, at least, it _feels_ like love, but I don't understand why you would risk so much for someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“Someone who has nothing to offer you or your pack,” Draco replied, and he felt as though he was repeating himself for the hundredth time. “I was a Death Eater, I was a prisoner of the Dark Lord, I was a rich, spoiled brat who lied and cheated to get ahead, and I needed to lose _everything_ in order to learn just how wrong I was about how I approached every aspect of my life. I have nothing good to give you or your pack, and I don't even know if I can survive the kind of life you lot lead.”

“And when you look in the mirror, or think of yourself, you see all these bad things?” Harry asked softly, the werewolf's thumb still stroking his cheek when Draco nodded a little. Really, what could he even _offer_ someone like Harry, or his people? It was completely ludicrous.

“Let me tell you what I see,” Harry said softly, before he leant in for a gentle kiss. “I see intelligence—you know Potions like the back of your hand, and you could name every usable herb, fungi, flower, and whatever else faster than I can blink. You are probably the only person with that kind of knowledge in the pack, and Potions is a very rare tool out in the wild. Usually, the best we can hope for is to stumble across some dittany, and we chew the leaves and flowers into a paste to put on fresh wounds. You're not just essential to the pack for your potions talents, Draco—you're _irreplaceable._

“I also see courage,” Harry continued, and Draco snorted softly with derision. “Yes, _courage,_ ” he repeated with a small, wry smile. “You're tough—you're _really_ tough. You stood up to the sentries of my pack who initially caught you like it was nothing. You _saved my life_ , you compromised all your twisted values to help me, and you didn't have to do that, but you _did_. That's amazing, Draco.

“And d'you know what else I see when I look at you?” Harry asked, and Draco shrugged a little, well beyond words at Harry's heartfelt speech. “I see beauty. Not just physical beauty—though you are _gorgeous,_ Draco—you are almost ethereal, the way you hold yourself. You are confident without even trying, without even _knowing_ it. You can do so many things, thinking they are mundane or ordinary, and they're just...amazing. _You're_ amazing. And even if you had none of those things, I'd _still_ want you as my mate, because you will always be perfect to me, and I will always want you by my side, no matter what. Understand me?”

Draco bit his bottom lip, and breathed slowly, in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The breathing exercises did not help, and with a soft sob he fell into Harry's arms.

The werewolf chuckled warmly as he drew Draco close, and Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek as he murmured, “it's all right, Draco, you cry—cry as much as you want. You've been strong enough, and now...I'll take care of you.”


	11. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be April 12th. Enjoy :) Also the chapter count has been moved up to 15 chapters, because I don't think I can wrap this thing up in 12, haha.

Chapter Eleven – Jealousy

 

Despite Draco's exhaustion, and his pleas with Harry that they just Apparate the rest of the way to the pack, Harry insisted on legging it—literally. As Harry had promised, at noon on the third day, they finally traipsed into the territory, and were immediately accosted by the pack.

Teddy, in particular.

“Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, _Alpha!_ ” Teddy squealed excitedly as he barrelled forward and threw himself at the black wolf with an audible _flump,_ and Draco winced a little as he climbed off the wolf's back, sore and exhausted from the tiring three-day trek.

Harry's voice rumbled from his throat in something close to a purr, and he nudged at the cub with his nose consolingly, while all the other pack children began running at him, burying the fearsome wolf in something of a puppy pile as they all cried out different things—

“Alpha, where did you go?”

“Alpha, are you back for good?”

“Alpha, Teddy ate dessert before breakfast yesterday!”

“Hey!” Teddy cried, glaring at the little girl who had apparently outed him. “I did _not_! Nina made pie for breakfast! That's fruit, so it's still breakfast!”

A sickening series of cracks filled the air, and after a moment Harry was sitting in the space, starkers and surrounded by the children of the pack. He grinned, and pulled Teddy into a hug, which the boy happily returned.

“So what kind of fruit was in this pie?” Harry asked, and Teddy shrugged.

“I don't know,” he said. “Tree fruit.”

“Nina nicked it!” piped up one of the other children, “it was apples.”

“No, it wasn't! It was bwackbewwies!” said another.

“Nuh-uh, it was peaches!”

“Nina?” Harry prompted, and arched his brow at a willowy, dark-haired older woman, who smiled at him apologetically.

“It...may have been treacle.”

“ _And you didn't save me any?_ ” Harry demanded with false indignation, and laughter rang through the glade as the children all giggled and fell on Harry with more excited hugs, while the adult wolves moved closer to greet him.

While Harry caught up with his pack, Draco hung back and observed the space, but he could not help but notice one pretty blonde girl giving him a nasty glare from the back of the group of wolves greeting their alpha.

Harry did not seem to detect the woman's attitude as he chatted with the wolf apparently named Nina, and Draco feigned disinterest in her sour mood while he took in the sight of his apparent new home.

On the whole, it looked mostly the same—save for the mishmash of half-finished cabins lined up neatly at one end of the pack's territory, like a little village had suddenly popped up out of nowhere. Not all the cabins were completed, but the ones that were were were rustic, but charming.

A great many of the caves that lined the edge of the mountain still appeared to be occupied, though a few of them now seemed to be devoted strictly to storage. From Draco's standpoint, he could see one filled with furs, another with jars of preserves and salted meats, and a third of drying herbs on a number of handmade racks, but the content of the others were difficult to see from his vantage point.

“Draco?” Harry said suddenly, drawing Draco from his bubble of thought, “could you come here, please?”

Harry was still surrounded by his pack, the children in front, and the adults a little farther back. At the call of his name, all the heads swivelled towards Draco, and he had the sudden sensation of needing to run and hide wash over him. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that so many predators were now staring at him. He swallowed once, and pushed forward an illusion of confidence as he crouched down and pulled Harry's trousers from his bag, and tossed them to the alpha wolf as he approached.

“Put some trousers on first, you beast.”

Harry smirked at the nickname, but as he caught the article of clothing and glanced down, a perplexed look flooded his features, then began to laugh, as though he'd only just realized that he was still naked.

Harry pulled on the jeans that had been thrown at him, while Draco sauntered over to him. The werewolf wrapped an arm around Draco's waist in a clearly possessive hold, while he pulled his human close, until he was more or less pinned bodily against Harry's chest. Once again, he felt the sensation of someone glaring at him, but did his best to ignore it.

“Everyone,” Harry called, “I'd like to introduce you all to my mate—Draco Malfoy.”

“Isn't he the one who ran away?” demanded one of the women snidely—the same woman Draco had spotted glaring at him earlier. Harry frowned, but she continued before Harry had a chance to interject. “His grandfather, Abraxas, killed our kind for _sport_.”

“Draco is not his family, Amelia,” Harry said sternly. “Draco has never harmed a werewolf.”

“But he shows his love for the life we lead by refusing to associate with us while he was first here, then runs away?” one of the men asked, one Draco recognized him as the man who initially caught him when he'd first accidentally stumbled into Harry's territory. “Be honest with us, Alpha—he is only here because you brought him back, probably kicking and screaming.”

Harry growled, and bared his teeth at the man. His arm around Draco tensed, and Draco gasped a little when Harry all but crushed him against his chest.

“I'll have you know that Draco wanted us to Apparate here, but I insisted on taking him here the wolf way,” Harry snapped, his eyes narrowing at the man as he spoke. “He is Alpha Bitch—it is not your place to question it.”

“It is if he threatens our way of life!” another protested, and Draco felt his stomach begin to drop. It appeared as though coming back here had been nothing short of a terrible idea.

“He threatens no one!” Harry snarled angrily, and a few of the children dropped to the ground at his tone, whimpering and exposing their necks like whipped puppies. “Draco is another lost soul—like all of you. You _all_ needed a place at one time or another; somewhere safe, somewhere where you couldn't be found...somewhere to call _home_. Draco Lucius Malfoy is my true mate; I can smell it. That means that he isn't going anywhere—he is _mine_. I will protect him from any threat that _dares_ to take one step towards him, and that includes all of you. You do not hurt him. He is alpha as much as me, and you are honour-bound to protect him. If you don't like it, you're welcome to leave.”

“I'd make a _much_ better Bitch than he ever could,” the woman called Amelia suddenly growled, and though to Draco she seemed on the verge of physically attacking Harry, he did not appear at all intimidated by her. On the contrary, Harry rolled his eyes.

“I'm not going through this with you again, Amelia,” Harry snapped at her. “Draco is my true mate, and if you give him any trouble, I will rip out your ribcage and wear it as a hat. Is that in any way _not_ clear?”

“He can't even give you cubs.”

“I have Teddy.”

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but her gaze fell to Teddy, who was still lying on the ground with the other children, and her mouth snapped shut. At the same moment, Draco had had enough.

Draco turned, and Harry—amazingly—let him go. He strode across the short space between himself and this female wolf who seemed to want Harry for herself, and threw out his chest a little as he stopped in front of her.

“Now you listen to me, you stupid bint,” Draco snarled, “you lay _one_ hand on Harry, and I shall peel your skin off and make myself a fine pair of leather trousers. I am his, and he is mine. There is no changing that, and that is not something I wish to change, either. The last time I was amongst you lot, I had been kidnapped and held against my will. This time, I come to join you freely, as Harry's mate. I am not running from anything; I could have had a comfortable and safe life with the humans of the wizarding world, but I _chose_ him as assuredly as he chose me. So don't you _fucking_ dare imply that I am not here for any other reason than because I _want_ to be with Harry.”

“And what about the rest of us?” she retorted, just as one of the men put a hand on her arm, as though to draw her attention away from Draco, but she shook him off impatiently. “As Alpha Bitch, you have a responsibility to _all_ of us. From what I know of your kind, you look out for none but yourself.”

“I protect my own, I always have,” Draco replied evenly, his eyes narrowing into a glare as he faced off with the wolf. “My family has always been the most important thing to me, and I lost it following the war. I believed myself worthless, and was content serving a Potions Master so ancient that he would have made _Nicholas Flamel_ look young. Your Alpha reminded me that despite everything, I still have worth. If you wish to contradict him—claim that he is _wrong_ , then by all means, go right ahead.”

Draco stepped aside so that she was facing Harry. Her face was set into a scowl, but Draco did not miss the small flicker of fear that he saw in her eyes. Despite her bravado, it was quite clear that she wasn't completely willing to go toe-to-toe with someone she clearly wanted so much. With another growl she stomped off, while one of the older male wolves stepped forward.

He was an old Asian man with one leg, and a long peg leg in place of the missing one. The children that had been previously on the ground stood up as the man took Draco's hands, and nodded to him once in greeting.

“We welcome you, Draco,” he said with a heavy accent. “Know that not all reject you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said uncertainly, and glanced over to Harry, who nodded at him encouragingly. The man smiled again, and squeezed his hands once, then stepped back.

He was immediately replaced by another one of the women, who took his hands and said, “welcome, Draco,” before she too, stepped back.

Every single wolf in the pack repeated the process of welcoming him, ending with little Teddy, who forewent the gripping of his hands in favour of throwing himself at Draco in something of a bear hug, and Draco yelped as he toppled to the ground with the cub on top of him.

“You won't run away again, right, Alpha Draco?” Teddy asked eagerly as he perched himself on Draco's chest, and he chuckled as he reached up to pat the cub's shoulder.

“I have no plans to, Teddy,” Draco replied, and the little boy cheered enthusiastically, making the adults that were looking on laugh warmly.

“All right, Ted, let him up,” Harry said with a chuckle, and the little boy crawled off of Draco and straightened up, while Harry held out a hand to the blond, which he accepted.

Harry pulled Draco to his feet without effort, and smirked a little as he wrapped an arm around him and drew him close, whispering, “you doing okay?” in his ear softly enough that it wasn't likely that the other nearby werewolves would overhear. Draco nodded, and when he spotted the angry female werewolf from before watching them at a distance, he wrapped his own arm around Harry's waist in an effort to show her just how serious he was about his interest in staying with Harry and the pack.

“Alpha, you have to come!” Teddy suddenly said, and grabbed Harry's hand. He tugged on him insistently, and Harry chuckled as the two adults stumbled after the child. “We're making _houses!_ And ours is the best!”

“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, chortling as he allowed Teddy to lead the way. “Why is ours the best?”

“'Cause Rolf and Seb and Lyla finished ours first, and it has _rooms!_ ”

“Rooms, eh?” Draco asked as he laughed with Harry. “How many?”

“ _So many!_ ” Teddy replied as he skidded to a halt in front of a quaint little cabin. It was simply built out of planks of oak, with a small square window to the right of the door. Though it was roughly the size of an ice-fishing cabin, Draco could feel the magic radiating off of it, telling him that the inside was likely much larger than the outside.

“Well,” Harry said as he turned to Draco with a small smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Draco nodded, “let's see it.”

Teddy's smile broadened, and he turned the wooden knob, pushing the door open.

Teddy led the way inside, and Harry kept his arm around Draco as they crossed the threshold into the cabin. The front room held a fire pit surrounded by cushions and log benches, as well as a space for potion-making, and two empty bookcases.

At the back of the space was a narrow passageway with oil lamps affixed to the walls, dimly illuminating the space and showing four wooden doors along it.

Harry let go of Draco, allowing him to explore their new home, and he made a beeline for the hall, stopping to open each door as he went, and he found two bedrooms—one with a large king-sized bed big enough for two, and the other with a much smaller kid-sized bed for Teddy, along with a wooden chest at the end of each bed, for holding clothes, Draco assumed.

The two rooms opposite contained a huge in-ground bath in one, and a toilet and wash basin in the other. They were simple and rustic, but for Draco, he felt almost as though he had been transported back to the manor. Harry didn't have to do all this, but he did it—for _Draco._

It had been so long since someone had done something so thoughtful for him that for a moment Draco had no idea how to react. He backed into the main area, where Teddy and Harry were waiting, expectant, with small smiles on their faces, both carrying the same hopeful looks in their eyes.

“Well?” Harry asked nervously, “er...what do you think?”

“You really did all this...for me?” Draco asked, and Harry's uncertainty seemed to dissolve as he moved to close the distance between himself and Draco.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, smiling at him warmly as he leant in close, and Teddy giggled a little from behind him. Harry leant in close, his lips brushing over Draco's in a gentle kiss, one that felt strangely intimate, despite the simplicity of it, and he shivered involuntarily.

“Do you still believe that you are not worth the effort?” Harry asked softly, and kissed Draco again before he leant back a little, and waited for his response.

“Will you be cross if I say _yes_?” Draco asked, and Harry smiled sadly at him. “I'm out of practice with being cared for. This is...it's _wonderful_ , Harry, and I can't believe you would do something like this, but I've spent the last few years being either ignored or treated like vermin, so part of me still wonders why you would even bother.”

“Because you are my mate, I love you, and I want you to be happy with me, not uncomfortable and miserable,” Harry said simply. “Does that make sense?”

“It does,” Draco agreed with a small smile, as he leant in to kiss his werewolf. “Think you'd be up for christening that big bed tonight?”

“With you?” Harry asked hopefully, his eyes brightening at the prospect, and Draco snorted softly.

“No, with Horace Slughorn,” Draco said sarcastically, and Harry barked a laugh. “ _Yes_ with me.”

“Provided that a certain _someone_ stays in his own bed and isn't too freaked out about sleeping alone,” Harry nodded towards Teddy, who was doodling in the fire pit ash with an iron poker, and not listening to them, “then yes, I would _love_ that.”

 

~*~

 

When Harry, Draco, and Teddy exited the cabin again, Teddy made a beeline for the other kids. Harry kissed Draco once, and muttered something about speaking to the hunting party quickly before he also stepped away, leaving Draco quite alone in the middle of the glade.

Draco glanced around, but none of the other pack members approached him. He rubbed at his arms nervously while he tried to exude a mask of relaxation, though he could feel that it was quite obvious how ill at ease he felt.

As he stood there, not quite paying attention to his surroundings as he waited for Harry to come back, someone bumped him in the shoulder, hard enough that he fell to the ground.

“Oops,”Amelia said as she stalked past, her voice dripping with insincerity. “Didn't see you there.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her as he stood up and brushed himself off, his head held high as he tried to appear unruffled by the contact.

“I'm sure you didn't,” he replied, and mirrored her insincere expression. “Quite a common mistake, to careen into one of the alphas of your pack like that.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You are _no_ alpha,” she growled angrily.

“Aren't I?” Draco asked innocently, “I am mated to your pack's alpha male. As I understand it, that makes me the Alpha Bitch. I share your alpha's meals, his responsibilities, his _bed_...” He paused to watch the effect his words had on her, and he smirked a little when she began to radiate nothing but pure fury. “I am his _true_ mate. Something that _you_ will never be.”

Amelia let out an angry screech, and lunged at him. Draco kept his body as relaxed as he could while he braced himself for the hit, and grunted when she careened into him and they both crashed to the ground.

Draco felt all the air rush from his lungs as they landed, and when the she-wolf brought her fist down onto Draco's cheek, he felt the bone crack.

“You're no alpha!” she screamed as Draco cried out in pain, while around her the others began to shout, but Draco could not make out their words over Amelia's furious shouts. “You're _nothing!_ You're just a quick fuck for Alpha! You can't be his true mate, you're just a lowly, stinking human!”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but nothing escaped him but a low, gurgling hiss as she closed a hand around his throat, cutting off his air. At the same moment, another hand grabbed her by the neck and wrenched her away from Draco, throwing her bodily away from him, and she landed in a heap nearly six feet away.

Harry was growling, his muscles twitching in blind fury as he stepped in front of Draco, and faced off with her.

“Do not touch him,” Harry snarled, his voice so low and thick with rage that his words were almost lost. “Mate. _Mine_. You hurt him—I will kill you.”

Harry took another purposeful step forward, while Amelia scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with alarm. Harry growled again, while another of the male pack members stepped in front of her, blocking Harry's view.

“Alpha?” he asked, craning his neck a little in a display of submission. “She is down; we will ensure that she will not escape punishment. See to your mate, and we shall subject her to judgment after he is tended to.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, frozen for a moment before he backed up, never once taking his eyes off Amelia or her apparent protector, and he drew Draco to him, scenting him thoroughly while he continued to glare at Amelia, who had not yet moved, and she was visibly trembling with shock and fright.

“Mine,” Harry repeated, standing mostly in front of Draco as he glared at them. “Protect. Mine.”

“He is protected, Alpha,” the man said again. “No one here wishes him harm.”

Draco opened his mouth, intending to point out that the woman in question nearly _killed_ him, but in doing so he remembered his cracked cheekbone, and gasped softly with pain.

The sound did not go unnoticed by Harry, who let out another snarl of anger and turned to scooped him up as though he weighed nothing. Draco let out a tiny yelp of surprise and clung to Harry, while he promptly carried him back to their cabin without looking back.


	12. Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update scheduled for April 19th. Due to bad planning on my part, all my current WIPs (4 of 'em) have run out of pre-written chapters—usually I write all or most of the story in advance, and spend the week in between updates editing and going over bits with my beta, but this time I posted the stories before they were completed, which led to this disaster. What this means is that while I will do my best to put out next week's instalment on time, there may be a delay in posting it—I feel that it's better to wait and put out something good, rather than give you guys a rushed pile of crap. So, I will do my best to stay on schedule, and I hope you guys enjoy this week's update :)

Chapter Twelve – Judgment

 

Draco didn't know what to do.

As Harry carried him back to their new cabin, he tried multiple times to speak and protest Harry's actions—in particular _carrying him off_ like he was some sort of damsel in distress—but his face ached too much to speak coherently. Even if he managed it, Draco wasn't certain that Harry would be able to understand him in his feral state. Instead, he held on to Harry tightly, trying to express without words that he was _fine_ , but that did not stop the werewolf from carrying Draco into the cabin where he headed straight to their bedroom, and dumped him on the bed.

For one wild moment, Draco thought that Harry was going to have his way with him to prove that Draco _belonged_ to him, but the instant that Draco was dropped onto the bed, Harry's demeanour seemed to soften, and when he leant back over Draco, his growls sounded closer to purrs as he zeroed in on Draco's injury, and brushed his fingers lightly over it, making the human hiss with pain.

“H-Harry...” Draco choked out from between clenched teeth, and the werewolf growled again. He had the strangest sense that Harry was telling him to lie still, but despite this, Draco couldn't completely control his nervous, laboured breaths as he gazed up at the werewolf, uncertain what he planned to do to him.

Harry lifted his hand to Draco's cheek, and Draco clenched his eyes shut as he held his breath. Instead of pain however, he felt a soft tickle across his cheek, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Harry staring at him intently while he held his hand over Draco's injured cheek, and something like a pale, spring-green mist was sinking into his skin.

It was unlike any magic Draco had ever seen—or felt. Healing spells for broken bones were usually much more painful, and in contrast, this felt more like Harry was bathing his face in a gentle summer breeze. He could taste the wildness of the magic, but it was gentle and tender, like a lover's kiss.

_Werewolf Magic_ , his mind supplied for him.

After a moment, Harry lowered his hand. Draco opened his mouth, and felt no pain. He rotated his jaw to be sure, but all the pain was gone.

“Thank you,” he said, and Harry leant in close, but not to kiss him. Instead, he nuzzled his cheek in a very wolfish manner, and when he pulled back, Draco noticed with a jolt that Harry's eyes were no longer green, but gold.

“Was...good?” Harry asked thickly,  as though forming words were difficult for him, his head cocking to the side as he stared at Draco. “Was good mate?”

“Yes, you were,” Draco replied, and reached out for Harry, touching his cheek lightly. “Just relax, I'm fine; you healed me.”

“Want...want to be worthy,” Harry said in a disjointed and distracted sort of way, as though he had not heard Draco speak. “Couldn't protect mate. Must protect. Must be worthy.”

“You _are_ ,” Draco said, and gasped when Harry climbed fully on top of him, and began to bestow wet, messy kisses to the side of his throat. “H-Harry...”

“Want...want... _need_ to be worthy...” Harry growled, and Draco shuddered as Harry bit down on his throat, hard enough the bruise, but thankfully not enough to break the skin.

“You _are_ worthy, Harry, please...” Draco shivered again, gasping as Harry's tongue laved over the new mark on his throat. “Please... _stop_. This isn't right, this isn't how I want it.”

Harry immediately pulled back, but his eyes were clouded and his face was riddled with confusion.

“Stop?” Harry echoed, “why? Was wrong? Was...bad?”

“No, you weren't bad,” Draco replied quickly, and reached up to touch Harry's cheek as he leant in for a gentle kiss. “This just...doesn't feel right. You slapped around that... _woman_ , then dragged me back here for a shag? I want our first time to be special, not feel like you're marking your territory...so to speak.”

“You're mine,” Harry said, as though he hadn't heard anything of what Draco had just said, and the blond laughed softly.

“I am,” he agreed. “I always will be—you convinced me of that _long_ before we got back here. But I want our first time to be...perfect. Not like this. It feels wrong to do it like this.”

Harry whined, clearly not understanding in his current state, but Draco noted that the edges of his irises were fading from gold to green. Intent on keeping Harry from lapsing back into a more wild state of mind, Draco touched his cheek again as he drew Harry into a gentle, tender kiss.

“Please, Harry,” Draco murmured, “my alpha, please...let us wait, and have our first time together be... _perfect_.”

Draco kissed Harry again before he could respond, and he felt the werewolf begin to relax as he kissed him back. He held Draco close with such gentle touch, as though he was precious. For a moment, Draco almost wanted to weep, for no one had _ever_ made him feel so desired—so _loved._

“Harry...” Draco whimpered against his lips, and Harry touched his cheek gently, and kissed him again.

“Shh, Draco,” Harry murmured, “it's all right...”

“Your eyes...” Draco said softly in an effort to divert the conversation away from himself, and Harry arched an eyebrow at him.

“What about them?”

“They're green again.”

“They are,” Harry agreed, grinning a little as he leant in for another tender kiss. “You brought me back to myself. I'm sorry about that...did I scare you?”

“You _wish_ ,” Draco teased, and Harry buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck as he began to laugh.

“Okay, but really,” Harry said when he'd recovered, “are you all right?”

“That was...” Draco trailed off and heaved a sigh. “I was afraid, all right? I was afraid that you would... _do something_.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, his brow furrowed with confusion. Draco felt his face burn, ashamed both for thinking such a thing, and for being unable to say the words aloud—they were simply too horrible to say. Thankfully, Harry seemed to finally understand what he was getting at, and his eyes went wide.

“Oh, Draco, no,” Harry said, “no, I'd _never_ do that.”

“It seemed like you would,” Draco replied, and winced at the way his voice trembled a little as he spoke. “You were...were...like an animal.”

“But you said no, and I stopped,” Harry said, “that's the point. I love you, and I respect you. If you had been all for it, I definitely would have kept going, but an alpha would be shunned if he tried to do that to his alpha bitch. I'm sorry that I frightened you, Draco, I didn't really realize what I was doing.”

“I won't ask you not to do it again,” Draco hedged, “I feel like it's not something you can control—not fully, at least. But you did frighten me, and I worry what might happen if someone else goes after me...”

“No one will,” Harry said softly as he rested a hand on Draco's thigh gently. “Amelia has always been the most bullheaded and entitled one I've taken to my pack. She's always been interested in me, even after I point-blank told her that I prefer blokes. She always felt that she'd make a better Alpha Bitch than any man, simply because she could give me cubs. I don't need cubs—I have Teddy. She never quite understood that.”

“From what I've seen, you certainly have your hands full with just Teddy,” Draco teased lightly, and Harry chuckled as he nodded.

“That's true,” he agreed, “he has all the Marauder mischief mixed up with Tonks's inability to behave herself—he's a right little terror.”

“Marauder?”

“What my dad and his friends called themselves back in school,” Harry explained, “they got up to all sorts of trouble.”

“Hmm...a trait you most certainly didn't inherit,” Draco mused sarcastically, and Harry grinned sheepishly.

 

~*~

 

After another quarter of an hour, Harry and Draco emerged from the cabin hand in hand. Draco was still nervous about being around the pack, in particular after what had just occurred, but he felt it important that he be there, and Harry seemed to agree with him.

“As Alpha Bitch, you'd be expected to witness the judgment, especially since she attacked you,” Harry explained as they walked, his expression carefully blank as he spoke.

“What will her punishment be?”

“Exile,” Harry replied without emotion. “I won't risk your safety with people I am supposed to trust. Unless you'd rather I kill her?”

“ _What?_ ” Draco stared at him, but Harry's blank, nonchalant expression did not change. “I—no, exile is fine, but...”

“But what?”

“I never thought I'd hear _you_ of all people talk so plainly about killing someone else,” Draco admitted, and Harry offered him a sad sort of smile as he pulled the human in for a tender kiss.

“You are much more sweet and caring than I thought you were,” Harry said as he kissed Draco again. “Showing mercy to an enemy...”

“She is hardly my _enemy_ ,” Draco replied with a soft chuckle, “especially when you wouldn't even give her the time of day. I am more surprised that you're willing to kill someone. Beyond the Dark Lord, you never seemed the type.”

“I had to do a lot of terrible things since my turning,” Harry replied with a weak, sad smile. “All in the name of protecting those I care about—hunters, rogue wolves, and... _others_. I've kept the number low, but it never gets easier, no matter how often I am forced to do it.”

“And regardless how your hand is forced, should the wizarding world learn of it, you would be painted as a criminal—an animal,” Draco filled in, and Harry grimaced as he nodded.

“All the more reason to stay as far away from them as we can,” Harry replied as he dropped Draco's hand and moved to wrap a possessive arm around him. “I want you safe, and I want my pack safe. The wizarding world has never brought me anything but trouble.”

Draco opened his mouth, tempted to point out that without the wizarding world, Harry would never have even met his godson, but curbed the impulse when he caught sight of the stony, closed-off expression upon the werewolf's face. Draco had a feeling that Harry would not appreciate such a remark right now. Instead, he leant against his side and allowed the werewolf to lead him out of the village of half-finished cabins, and back to the main area of the pack's sequestered territory where the others were waiting.

 

It was one of the strangest scenes that Draco had ever witnessed. All of the pack members were present, four of the men were standing around Amelia, whose hands were tied at her back, and she was on her knees. She was glaring at the ground, no sign of regret in her expression. The cubs were off to one side with one of the other pack females, and she was talking with them softly, a smile on her face, with one of the youngest cubs perched in her lap.

The others were scattered around the space, some appearing anxious, others sorrowful or aloof. No one appeared pleased or vocally upset by the impending trial, but neither did they appear to be blaming Draco in looks or words for what had occurred, for which he was grateful.

The alpha pair slowed to a stop before the small crowd, and Draco moved to step back, but Harry's arm tensed around him, bidding him silently to stay put.

“Bring the condemned forward,” Harry called, and Draco watched as two of the four men hefted Amelia to her feet, and dragged her towards Harry, before they dropped her unceremoniously in front of the alpha pair. Harry waited, watching the wolf with narrowed eyes as she straightened up, but remained on her knees with her eyes fixed in a glare upon the ground.

“You are charged with the crime of attacking one of our own, the alpha bitch of your pack. Do you deny it?”

“I can't, everyone saw it,” she bit out angrily, and Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise at her cutting, acidic tone. Not even in their old schooldays did Harry ever hate him _this_ much, and it was somewhat alarming to witness.

Draco shifted his gaze to Harry, and though his stern expression had not changed, there seemed to be a similar spark of surprise in the alpha's eyes, mirroring Draco's own. His arm tightened around Draco, and with a soft growl he tugged his human closer before he began to speak.

“For your crimes, I banish you from our lands. Your mind will be wiped of its location and our identities, and should you manage to return, you will be killed on sight. You may not appeal this judgment.”

Amelia lifted her head. She was silent, but her eyes spoke of her fury. She met Harry's gaze in challenge, then without pause, she spat at his feet.

If Harry reacted to this, Draco did not see it. His ears ringing with rage, he stormed from Harry's side, and both of the wolves that had been bracketing Amelia scuttled back like frightened deer as Draco bore down on the wolf, and struck her across the face, in the same place she had injured him earlier.

Without any means of defending herself, given that her hands were still bound, she toppled onto her side with a startled cry. Draco did not wait, but moved to step on her throat, pressing hard enough that her breathing would be laboured, but not cut off.

“You insulted my mate,” he snarled, “apologize.”

“Not—he's not your mate!” She gasped out, “you'll _never_ be one of us, you're just a pathetic human!”

“Apologize!” Draco snarled, “or I swear by all that is sacred, I will kill you where you lie.”

“Wolf-killer!” she howled, “you're no different than the rest!”

“He is different!” cried Teddy, ignoring the adult wolves' hushing as he ran for Harry, and hugged his leg. “He protected Alpha just now! You _never_ protect Alpha!”

“He may be human,” added Harry as he stepped up to Draco and wrapped an arm around his waist with Teddy still clinging to his other side, “but he protected my honour without a second thought—which is more than I can say for _you._ You are the weak link, Amelia, and I'd keep that mouth of yours shut unless you want my mate to do it for you. Rolf, Sebastian, take her.”

The two werewolves nodded and stepped forward, inclining their heads towards Draco once in acknowledgement and respect before he stepped back and allowed them to take her away. Amelia screeched, shouting obscenities as Harry stepped back from Draco, pried Teddy off his leg, and stepped towards the condemned woman, until he was close enough to touch her. He ignored her thrashing and screaming as he pressed his hand to her forehead, his eyes fierce and intense as she tried to bite him, but kept missing, then all at once something in her seemed to change—her eyes suddenly slid out of focus, and she slumped forward in the hold of the two men as she blacked out.

Draco watched in complete silence as Amelia was carried off, and Harry loped back towards him. He wrapped his arm around Draco again, while Teddy popped his thumb in his mouth and reached for Harry's free hand. The alpha smiled a little as he shook off Teddy's hand, but before the cub could react to this apparent brushoff, Harry scooped him up in his free arm, and Teddy giggled as he pulled his thumb from his mouth and linked his arms around Harry's neck.

“Where's Amelia going to go?” Teddy asked, “will she come back?”

“No, cub, she's not allowed to come back,” Harry replied as the child rested his head against Harry's shoulder. “Do you understand why?”

“'Cause she wasn't nice to Draco Alpha, and she dispected you.”

“Dis _re_ spected,” Draco corrected on impulse, and Harry snorted a little.

“Uh huh,” Teddy replied, more or less ignoring Draco as he turned his attention back to his godfather, “but it's better, that she's gone? She'll get a time-out, and be better.”

“I hope so, cub,” Harry said as he nuzzled his cheek, making the boy giggle, “I hope she'll get better.”

“Is we still doing the welcoming feast tonight, Alpha?”

“Welcoming feast?” Draco asked, arching a brow, while Harry hissed a soft curse. “What welcoming feast?”

“For you,” Harry explained somewhat sheepishly, “to welcome you to the pack. It might need to be put off though, after all the chaos with the trial over Amelia...”

“No, no!” Teddy protested, “Alpha, you _have_ to have the feast! You promised! And the hunting group is already hunting, and they promised to bring back deer _and_ pheasant _and_ goat. You _can't_ say no again, Alpha!”

“All right, all right,” Harry said as he laughed and set Teddy back on the ground. “I won't cancel the feast. Go with Nina and help her pick some veg and herbs for the meal, yeah?”

“Yay!” Teddy cried as he threw his arms in the air, and without another word he turned and darted off.

“He certainly doesn't lack for energy,” Draco mused as he stepped up to Harry's side and moved in for a kiss. “And a feast, just for me? Why, if you keep this up, you'll bring all my downtrodden bad habits to the surface again.”

“Bad habits?”

“Such as demanding your attention at all times, being full of myself, being better than the rest of the pack...”

“And those were downtrodden bad habits...what, for the last five minutes?” Harry asked, and laughed when Draco swatted his arm.

“Quiet, you, or I shall sleep in Teddy's room tonight.”

“Oh, don't you even _joke_ about that,” Harry said as he swept Draco into his arms like he weighed nothing, and Draco yelped as his arms latched around the alpha's neck. “I fully intend to make use of that big, soft bed tonight—I'll fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight for a _week_ , and every wolf in a fifty-mile radius will be able to smell that you're mine.”

“Is that what passes for werewolf sweet talk?” Draco teased. “Oh, stop, please—my knees are weak.”

“You love it,” Harry purred as he set Draco back down and pulled him close, “I can _smell_ how much you want me, pet.”

“You _wish_ ,” Draco retorted, smirking as he leant in to kiss Harry again, “as if I'd _ever_ lower myself to being with Potty Wee Potter.”

“Back to Plan A?” Harry asked hopefully, ignoring the jibe, “after dinner, if Teddy stays in his own bed, we have...our night?”

Draco's smirk softened to a sweet smile as he gazed at his werewolf. Harry's eyes were wide and alight with a hopeful gleam, and he leant in to kiss Harry gently, which he returned happily.

"Tonight," Draco agreed softly, and Harry responded with a broad smile.


	13. Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for April 26th. Enjoy :)

Chapter Thirteen – Welcome

 

Draco watched as the men from before returned to the territory without Amelia, and stepped up to Harry to report on what they'd done with her.

Draco listened to how they dumped her on a roadside, miles from the territory so that even if the spell did not work and Amelia remembered where it was, she would not make it back easily. Despite the seriousness of the topic, Draco found it all very dull, and really all he wanted to do was sleep after all the excitement that day.

“You okay?” Harry asked suddenly while he laid a hand on Draco's knee, and he turned to his mate and offered Harry a small smile as he leant against him a little.

“Fine,” he replied, “just a bit knackered after the day we've had.”

“Why don't you go have a little lie-down?” Harry asked as he leant in to kiss him lightly. “The hunting party won't be back for a few hours, so there won't be much to do 'til then.”

“That sounds _lovely_ , actually,” Draco replied, and kissed Harry again before he got up and began to head towards the cabins again.

“Draco Alpha!” Teddy called suddenly, “where're you goin- _urk!_ ” Draco turned, and smiled to himself when he spotted Harry holding the cub by the collar of his jumper, Teddy squirming animatedly in an effort to get free, but couldn't quite manage it.

“Leave Draco alone,” Harry said sternly as Teddy continued to struggle against the hold Harry had on him. “Draco's going to have a little rest, I don't want you pestering him, all right?”

“A _nap_?” Teddy demanded, aghast, “but...but naps is for _babies!_ ”

Draco chuckled to himself as he turned again and headed towards the cabins. Teddy's high, distressed voice faded away as he walked. Draco was quite looking forward to the idea of a nap, regardless how _babyish_ it might seem to little Teddy.

He made it to the little grouping of cabins in no time at all, and headed to the one that had been claimed for himself, Harry, and Teddy. Already it carried the strange sensation of _home_ with it, and Draco smiled to himself as he slipped inside, shut the door, and headed for the bedroom.

Draco stripped off his shirt the moment he crossed into the room while he made a beeline for the bed, and sank down onto the sea of plush pillows and soft furs with a soft sigh of contentment.

This truly was _heaven._

_Shame Harry didn't kidnap me earlier,_ Draco mused sleepily as he tugged one of the furs over himself and closed his eyes, _I could get used to this._

Draco could not recall falling asleep, but when he next woke the sky was a deep, fiery orange, and he could feel the soft tickle of fingers carding through his hair as he lay there. Draco rolled over, and smiled warmly when he caught sight of Harry lying next to him.

“Morning,” Draco croaked as he offered the werewolf a small half-smile. “What time is it?”

“Sunset,” Harry replied as he leant in to offer Draco a small kiss. “The hunting party got back about an hour ago, and dinner will be ready soon. As guest of honour, you're sort of obligated to show up. Teddy wanted to come wake you, but I got the impression you wouldn't appreciate being tackled awake by an excited six-year-old.”

“You thought right,” Draco said as he sat up and rubbed a hand across his face, then lifted it to his hair, and groaned when he found the disaster waiting there for him there. “Oh,” he said with a small, weak laugh, “not good.” He moved to get up, but Harry caught his hand before he got very far.

“Hey, where are you going?” Harry asked teasingly, and tugged the limb gently.

“To go kill a cat on my head,” Draco retorted, while he used his free hand to comb through the mess. “Come on, Harry, I can't go to a feast looking like this.”

“Looking like what, exactly?” Harry asked as he tugged on his hand, “looking so perfect, lovely, and downright _edible?_ ” He pulled on him until Draco fell into Harry's lap, and he linked his arms around the human's waist to keep him there. “You look fine, love.”

“Well...” Draco trailed off, and smiled a little as he leant in and said, “okay.”

Draco kissed him, adjusting his position so that he was straddling Harry, and his werewolf let out a tiny squeak of surprise when Draco pushed him back onto the bed, and kissed him harder.

“Oh, don't do this to me now,” Harry whined between kisses, “I was supposed to _fetch_ the guest of honour, not fuck him...”

“It's not _my_ fault that you're far more delicious than a few slabs of meat,” Draco teased, “you have that _animal magnetism_ working for you...”

“Oh, baby, I've got a slab of meat right here with your name on it...”

“Draco Alpha, what are you _doing?_ ”

Draco whipped around as Harry jerked up a little, just in time to see Teddy run off, and distantly they heard him burst through the front door of the cabin as he screamed, “ _Draco Alpha is eating Alpha!_ ” at the very top of his lungs.

“There is no _way_ I am going out there now,” Draco said with a small groan as he buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck while the alpha laughed heartily. “Now _all of them_ will know what we were up to.”

“My sweet, sweet Alpha Bitch,” Harry purred as he coaxed his head up and pecked his lips lightly, “you are living with a pack of werewolves with _very_ acute noses. We can smell when you're angry, scared, or randy, so it really doesn't matter what parts—”

_Crash!_

Draco and Harry jolted up at the sound of the front door of their cabin bursting open. It was closely followed by a thunderous stampede of footfalls barrelling down the hall, paired with half a dozen childlike voices all shouting different things at once.

“I wanna see!”

“ _Move_ , you're hogging my space!”

“Hurry up, or we'll miss it!”

“Do you think Draco Alpha knows that the liver is the best part?”

“If Draco Alpha eats Alpha, does that mean he's the new alpha?”

“ _Stop pushing me!_ ”

Before either Draco or Harry could properly react to what they were hearing, six kids, all led by little Teddy toppled into the room in a heap, and let out a series of groans when they spotted the alpha pair.

“Teddy, you big fibber!” piped up one of the girls, “Draco Alpha isn't _eating_ Alpha, he's just sitting on him!”

“But I heard it, I'm not a liar!” Teddy shot back, “Draco Alpha said Alpha was more delicious than meat, and then Alpha said—”

“Okay, stop right there!” Harry called, as he lifted Draco off of him and plopped him back on the bed with no effort at all, and walked towards the cubs. “Come on, nothing to see, everyone out! You too, Teddy!”

Teddy let out a discomfited whine, but did not protest as he allowed his alpha to shepherd him out with the others, before Harry shut the door and turned to Draco with a small, apologetic smile.

“Er...sorry about that,” he said meekly, “D'you wanna come outside for your big welcome feast now?”

“It's curious,” Draco replied smoothly as he slid to his feet in one slow, fluid motion. “I'm even _less_ keen to show my face out there now, but something tells me that it might be worse if we let the pack of tiny demons run roughshod all over the territory spreading tales that I am _eating_ you.”

“And in _this_ territory, we do not waste food,” Harry added as he moved over to him, wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, and cupped his arse pointedly. “If you're to eat me, you should start with my arse, and you better eat my _whole_ arse.”

“You're filthy.”

“You love it.” Harry grinned, took his hand, and tugged on it gently. “Come on.”

With a small groan, Draco flicked his wand a few times to fix his hair and pulled his shirt back on before he fell into step with Harry, and followed him reluctantly out of the cabin and out towards the main area of the territory. He could smell cooking meat and hear music—shouts and drums interspersed with an excitable howling, and the faint sound of a fiddle undercutting the wolf sounds.

“What's going on?” Draco whispered as they walked, and Harry chuckled as he looped an arm around the human and tugged him close.

“The welcoming feast for new pack members is a very big deal,” Harry whispered, his hot breath tickling Draco's cheek, and it was making it very hard for Draco to concentrate. “It's even more special because you're the new Alpha Bitch, and because you are my true mate, and those are very rare.”

“How rare?”

“Very.”

“ _Very_ is not an accurate unit of measurement.”

“Shut up,” Harry whispered, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin as he spoke. “Anyway, there will be music, and food, and drink, and possibly dancing. Then afterwards, I will take you back to our cabin, and I will make you mine.”

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Were your lines always this garishly awful, or is that a werewolf trait?”

“If my lines are so awful, why do you keep falling for them?”

“Because you are a total cornball, and I kind of love it.”

“Are you two done having eye sex, or are you just going to do this banter-thing through the whole feast?”

Harry and Draco both turned at the same time to see one of the female wolves, Nina, smirking at them with her arms crossed. Draco could feel his face growing warm with embarrassment, while Harry smirked knowingly at her. Draco nudged his mate to get him to stop it, but it only seemed to make Harry's grin broader.

“What's eye sex?” Teddy suddenly asked, having been much closer than Draco realized, and was gazing at the adults with his head cocked to the side, and his thumb in his mouth.

“It's...it's...” Draco trailed off, his face flushing pink, and Harry chuckled as he drew his human closer and kissed his cheek.

“It's when two people wish to mate, but can't because people are around,” Harry explained, and Draco's eyes widened at the matter-of-fact response, and how Teddy nodded and darted off, as though Harry had explained nothing more outlandish than why the sky was blue.

“Why did you tell him that?” Draco hissed as he watched Teddy run towards the other kids, where he began to play roughly with them, chasing and tackling each other like little child-shaped wolves.

“Because we don't shelter our cubs,” Harry replied simply. “We do not tell them things that they are not ready for, like kinky weird stuff, but they do understand what sex and mating is, and where babies come from.”

“It just seems wrong, somehow...” Draco muttered as Harry wove through the area, leading Draco to the bonfire in the centre of the space, where they both sat down. “Kids deserve to be kids, not know about things like this.”

“They still are,” Harry asserted, “they just understand how bodies work, that's all. It's humans who coddle and shelter their children to such an extreme, like sex is something to be ashamed of—it's not.”

“I...” Draco trailed off, and grimaced a little. “I suppose werewolves and humans really do have different ways of living.”

“You're nervous,” Harry said, and Draco nodded. Harry kissed his cheek again, and ran his nose along the line of his cheekbone in a very wolfish nuzzle. “It's okay. We're not so different. It will just take some time for you to get used to things out here. If you feel overwhelmed about anything, just talk to me, all right?”

“Well, of course, use wisdom to make sure our relationship stays healthy and balanced...” Draco muttered teasingly, and Harry offered him a grin.

“Wait here for a moment, I'll go get us something to eat,” Harry said in response, and moved in to kiss Draco once before he stood and strode away from Draco. Though he left him alone by the fire, this time he was well in Harry's field of vision, and Draco did not feel any of the vulnerability that he had felt last time, and merely smiled as he watched his mate saunter over to the pack cooks for two bowls of food for them.

Harry brought over twin bowls of food—Draco's was fully cooked, and Harry's completely raw, and as they ate, Draco was privy to exactly why Harry was so reluctant to live anywhere that might be easier to locate. There was a strange sense of peace here, a peace the human world would not understand. Draco found himself wanting to conserve that peace, and keep those around him safe and happy.

_How odd, considering how I used to feel about anyone below me,_ he thought with a faint smile as he popped a piece of herb-roasted potato into his mouth. Draco leant against Harry a little while he chatted with Rolf, and Nina once again engaged Draco in conversation, smiling warmly as she did so.

Meanwhile, Teddy sat with the other pack cubs in a ring closer to the fire. Child-sized bowls were in their hands, and they looked to Harry and Draco for their cues. Amongst werewolves, it was customary to wait for the alpha pair to begin eating before the other members of the pack had permission to follow suit. Draco held back a smile as he watched the cubs mirror this with Teddy; not one of the cubs touched their food before the child of the alpha tucked in, and Draco wasn't certain whether this was coincidence or custom with the cubs. Regardless, it was endearing either way.

The most curious element however was the lack of tension in the air surrounding these actions, as though they were normal and expected, like how Draco's father used to toast the gods before holiday meals.

As they ate, Draco tactfully kept his eyes up, and away from the bowls of the others. Despite how nice and peaceful everything was, there was still something particularly disgusting about watching those around him eat hunks of raw meat with bloody fingers, and Harry had taken not only pieces of the organs, but also insisted upon taking the testicles of the goat that the hunters had brought back from a nearby field. Draco crossed his legs and fought down a shiver at the thought of eating such a part of the animal, though if Harry had noticed this particular reaction, he didn't remark on it.

The sun sank deeper on the horizon as the celebration continued, painting the trees black as the sky changed to a deep indigo, while one of the pack cooks produced a tea for everyone made of pine needles and tree sap. It was oddly refreshing, and the children were offered steaming cups of their own, which made them all yawn sporadically and begin to drop off near the fire, and with a smattering of warm chuckles, they were all carried off to bed by their parents, including little Teddy supported in Harry's arms, who seemed unable to stop smiling.

“Wow, you've had some effect on our alpha,” Nina remarked with a small giggle as they both watched Harry carry Teddy off towards the cabins.

“Effect?” Draco asked curiously, and arched a brow at the woman. In response, she offered him a warm smile.

“Yes. Alpha was never a cruel alpha, but he was...quiet. He didn't share much. With you, he's quite a bit more open. Of course, most of us knew his story, and learnt how it all ended, but that was it. He never told us much about who he was, or really who Teddy was, beyond the fact that he was his godson, I mean. Took a while for him to open up to any of us, but you...your presence with Alpha, he just...he's so different. It's good.”

“Good,” Draco replied with a faint smile, “I don't want Harry unhappy with me being here. He...he completes me.” He paused, what he had just said registering in his mind, and he laughed weakly as he bowed forward and buried his face in his hands. “Gods above, I must sound so ridiculous...I never speak like this to anyone, not even him.”

“It's _good_ , Alpha Draco,” Nina encouraged with a small smile. “It means your love for Alpha is true, and it will ensure your safety when the moon comes.”

“The moon,” Draco echoed, his eyes widening a little as he glanced away from the female wolf in the hope that she might not see the fear that had suddenly registered in his eyes. In the chaos of all that had happened, Draco had completely forgotten about it.

“Have you and Alpha discussed it yet?” Nina asked kindly, and Draco shook his head. “I assume you're probably a little nervous about it, but even though you haven't been here long, you already smell like Pack—you have nothing to worry about.”

_That's easy for you to say,_ Draco thought as he smiled a little and nodded as though in agreement, _you won't be the only human with a pack of werewolves..._

Suddenly, Nina's smile broadened a little, and she got up abruptly. Draco opened his mouth to call to her, when at the same moment a hand closed around his shoulder, and he glanced up to see Harry standing just behind him with a small smile on his face.

“Teddy asleep?” Draco asked, and Harry chuckled as he nodded.

“Some industrious person slipped some linden flowers into Teddy's tea, and he's out like a light—I could smell it on his breath, but no one will tell me who did it.”

“So, are they trying to help get you laid, or are they trying to get the child of the alpha to slip into a coma?”

“The first one, I think,” Harry said as he urged Draco to his feet, while around him the adults began to dance to the fiddle music, some sort of hearty jig that Draco did not recognize. “The pack might be a _little_ too invested in my personal life.”

“You could say that,” Draco teased as he leant in to kiss his mate, “all I've heard today is how good I've been for their _wonderful alpha_.”

“And don't want to stop being good to me now, do you?” Harry purred as he moved in for another kiss. “A few silencing spells, my jar of oil that I have stashed in the drawer of the bedside table, and I'll send your sweet, sweet arse to arse _heaven_.”

“Oh, yes please,” Draco moaned softly, and moved to kiss Harry again before as one they turned their backs of the festivities, and hurried towards the cabins without looking back.


	14. Mated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, I am so sorry about the delay. Hopefully today's smutty, smutty chapter makes up for it :P Final update is scheduled for May 27th. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Fourteen – Mated

 

Draco fell back into the mattress with a soft grunt as the air was pressed from his lungs. How they had made it from the front door to the bedroom was little more than a distant blur, and as Harry's mouth covered his own in a hungry kiss, Draco trembled beneath him with both desire and fear.

Harry lifted one hand, casting what Draco suspected was a silencing charm, given how the mist of his werewolf magic seemed to sink into the walls and door of the room, before he turned his full attention back to his human.

He hissed a soft gasp of surprise at what he saw as he gazed up at Harry, and bit his lip nervously. His eyes seemed to be drowning in a golden hue, and only the faintest flecks of green were still visible. His wolf side had clearly nearly completely taken Harry over, and it filled Draco with both apprehension and a curious sense of longing in equal measure.

“H-Harry?” Draco asked, his voice quivering a little, and Harry answered with a distinct, lupine growl. “Harry, don't do this, not now...”

“Mate,” his voice rumbled from his throat like a snarl, and Draco shuddered once more. Harry reached for him, but Draco caught his wrist in his hand before Harry could touch him. Though comparatively Draco had the strength of a bowtruckle when faced with Harry's werewolf power, instinctually, he knew that he had to try and calm Harry down.

Draco's hands shifted to grasp Harry's upper arms, and in that moment he was more alarmed than attracted by how firm they were—the skin was warm and soft, but as hard as stone. Harry had always been strong magically, but now he had the physical strength to match, and in his wild state, Draco could feel a niggling sense of fright beginning to sour the mood.

“Harry, please,” Draco said softly as his hands slid up the alpha's arms and up along his shoulders, before he cradled Harry's cheeks gently in both hands. “Please, my mate, my _alpha_ , come back to me.”

“ _Mate_...” Harry whined, confused, and grabbed at Draco clumsily. Despite the fact that he could have easily pinned Draco down without really trying, his touches were gentle, as though he didn't understand why Draco was protesting, but at the same time he was reluctant to hurt him in any way.

“Be still, my alpha,” Draco murmured as he leant in to kiss him. When he did, Harry gasped sharply when Draco's tongue surged forward to deepen the kiss, but alarmingly, he did not find regular human teeth in Harry's mouth, but wolf-like canines instead.

Draco pulled back, startled, and Harry whined again. Draco's gaze flitted experimentally to his eyes, and he relaxed a little when he saw that some of the green had begun to return to them. Harry whined again, confused and unsettled by Draco's rejection, but the human did not relent. “Harry, please.”

“Mate...mate...want...want...to m-mate...” Harry slurred his words, his head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, and he whined again as he pawed at Draco, rotating his hips to show his arousal, and for what felt like the umpteenth time, Draco shivered with both lust and fear.

“Harry, come back to me,” Draco repeated, his breath shivering from his lungs in a frightened gasp, “please. You're scaring me.”

Harry whimpered, and his insistent pushing slowed. He blinked more slowly than was natural, and when he opened his eyes again, they were his normal, vibrant green. Draco relaxed.

“D-Draco?” Harry asked, his voice small and uncertain.

“Harry,” Draco replied, the word escaping him as a sigh of relief, and he moved in to kiss him deeply.

“'M Sorry,” Harry murmured as they kissed, “'M so sorry...”

“What _was_ that?” Draco asked as he pulled back and eased down on the bed. Harry stretched out next to him, still very clearly aroused, but he seemed to understand that Draco needed an explanation before they continued.

“My wolf instincts coming to the fore,” Harry replied, his gaze fixed upon the bedspread as he spoke, as though he was too ashamed to look at Draco directly. “I just wanted you so badly that my wolf instincts completely took over...I've never had a human partner since I was turned, so letting my instincts run wild has never been an issue before.”

“You scared me,” Draco said accusingly, and Harry hung his head a little. “I'm not a werewolf like you, I can't...” Draco trailed off, and shivered. “That was too much for me.”

As soon as Draco said it, he felt a cold chill of anguish rush through him— _maybe this life is not for me, after all_. He didn't want to leave Harry; the mere idea made him feel sick to his stomach, but at the same time, the concept of being subject to that again was nothing short of terrifying.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry that I scared you,” Harry said as he moved in for a tentative kiss, and Draco felt himself flush at the pet name. “But you did the right thing—you brought me back. Not just anyone would be able to do that, you know. You're special to me, you always will be, and no matter how far we go, if you say _no_ , I will stop.”

“Will you, though?” Draco asked uncertainly, and winced when his voice trembled a little. “Will you always stop if I say _no_?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry replied without hesitation. “If you're not enjoying what we're doing, there is no point in doing it. I love you, I never want to hurt you.”

“How did you get so perfect?”

“Long, arduous hours of practice,” Harry replied without missing a beat, and Draco chuckled softly as he reached up to brush his fingers over Harry's cheek, then leant in for a gentle kiss.

“I'm sorry I doubted you,” Draco said, “this is all new to me.”

“No, don't be sorry, you were right to be alarmed, I can imagine that it must've been scary to see, especially if you weren't expecting it,” Harry said firmly, but gently between mind-numbingly sweet kisses. “This is all new for me too, you know. Like I said before, I've never been with a human after The Bite, so if I do something that's too much for you, you need to tell me, all right?”

“And if you don't understand why I'm making you stop, you have to tell _me_ ,” Draco countered. “I don't want to take your culture from you, some of it I need to accept if I'm going to enjoy my life with you here.”

“Good God,” Harry said with mock awe in his voice, “Teenager Draco would hardly recognize Adult Draco.”

“I think Teenager Draco would die of shock if he ever saw himself snogging Famous Harry Potter,” Draco retorted, and Harry laughed as he leant in for a kiss.

“In truth, I think Teenage Harry would have had a similar reaction...”

“And what does Adult Harry think?” Draco asked teasingly, and Harry responded with a lecherous grin.

“Adult Harry wants to roll over and have Adult Draco eat his Adult Arse,” Harry said, his voice so bland and deadpan, as though he was asking for a second biscuit, that Draco could not help but bark a laugh before he had the good sense to muffle it with a hand over his mouth.

“I cannot _believe_ that you just said that,” Draco said, and Harry grinned again as his hands snaked under the hem of Draco's shirt, and tickled his abdomen with his callused fingerpads.

“Does that mean you won't do it?” Harry asked, “I have this distinct recollection of you saying something about eating my _whole arse..._ ”

“That was _you,_ ” Draco retorted with another laugh, “ _You_ said that if I was to eat your arse, I was to eat your _whole arse_.”

“Does that mean you won't do it?” Harry replied, his smile falling as he gazed across at Draco.

“Did I _say_ that?”

Harry's uncertain expression dissolved at the sound of Draco's teasing tone, and he grinned again as he rolled over pointedly, and Draco snorted.

“If I am to do this, I want all of these obstructive garments _off_ ,” Draco said in his most pompous tone of voice, making Harry laugh again as Draco began to push the shirt Harry was wearing up and off his deliciously muscled back, before he turned to pull the werewolf's tatty jeans off, and immediately laughed out loud before he could stop himself.

“What are you laughing at?” Harry immediately demanded, “is there something on my arse?”

“No, that's not quite it...” Draco replied as he ran a hand over Harry's left buttock, making the muscle twitch. “I did not expect that The Chosen One would shave his arse, especially when you live in the wilderness.”

“Please don't call me The Chosen One in bed,” Harry groused, “and besides, just because I live in the woods doesn't mean I should skip my self-care.”

“Self-care usually involves the three S's, not keeping your arse completely hairless.”

“The three S's?”

“Shit, Shower, and Shave.”

“You're pretty crude for a stuck-up rich boy.”

“One of the benefits of spending my adolescence in a boys' dormitory,” Draco replied dryly, making Harry laugh again, but it quickly shifted to a moan as Draco climbed on top of him, and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Draco smirked to himself as he pressed another kiss a little lower down, and was gifted with another sweet moan. He continued his trek down the column of Harry's spine, and about halfway down he shifted to making full use of his tongue, and slowly licked his way the rest of the way down, stopping just above the cleft of Harry's arse, which made the werewolf whine in protest.

“God, you're such a tease...” Harry mumbled, and Draco smirked to himself at the discomfited tone with which he spoke.

“All in good time, Harry dear...” Draco replied as he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry's arse, casting a single cleansing charm upon the orifice, which caused his partner to yelp in surprise.

“Oi! I do wash, you know!” Harry cried indignantly, his head whipping around to frown at Draco. Draco smirked, and leant up to offer his werewolf a kiss.

“I don't doubt it,” Draco replied in between tender kisses as his hands fell to Harry's arse, and he began to idly massage the muscle that he found there, eliciting another groan from the brunet. “But consider it an extra precaution.”

“You are so _delicate_ ,” Harry teased fondly as he kissed Draco, nipping lightly at his bottom lip as he did so. “The idea of a little dirt is _that_ unseemly to you?”

“It's not _dirt_ in that particular crevice, Harry,” Draco reminded him, and Harry shrugged as though it made no difference to him. “I do enjoy the giving and receiving of rimming, but I _always_ cast a cleansing charm before I proceed.”

“Well, next time warn me first, yeah?” Harry replied, and Draco chuckled as he nodded his head.

“Yes, I can do that,” he said, and Harry offered him a warm smile as he relaxed back into the soft folds of the duvet.

Draco went back to what he was doing, and nipped at Harry's left buttock before he trailed his tongue towards the centre, and very slowly spread his cheeks apart.

“Oh, God, _yes_...” Harry groaned, while Draco smirked to himself.

“Let me show you how good I can be when I—”

“Draco, don't you _dare—_ ”

“— _slip between the cracks_.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Harry groaned, and Draco smirked to himself. “I never knew you could be this much of a cornball.”

Draco decided to not answer, and instead extended his tongue, circling Harry's pucker of muscle, making it twitch, and eliciting another moan from the alpha.

“Oh, _yes..._ ” he groaned, his buttocks flexing a little, and Draco chuckled to himself as he circled it again, opening his mouth a little more as he dipped the tip of his tongue into Harry's arse, making him moan again and squirm, making it quite clear how much Harry was loving this.

Draco pulled back for a moment, and bit into Harry's right buttock, and he grinned when Harry began to squirm and moan again, his arms reaching out ahead of him, and his fingers intertwining with the folds of the blankets.

“Like that?” Draco breathed, knowing full well that Harry would be able to hear him.

“More, I need more...” Harry groaned, rolling over to drag Draco into a hungry kiss, apparently uncaring where his mouth had just been. He sat up, pulling Draco into his lap as they went, and with a casual wave of his hand, Harry magicked away Draco's clothes using more of his werewolf magic.

Draco gasped, startled by his sudden nakedness, and let out a small yelp as Harry pinned him to the bed with a soft growl, and devoured his mouth again. Draco shuddered, but did not fight it—he could see that the wolf had not fully taken Harry over, and it was pure arousal that drove him now.

Harry's hands slid down Draco's sides, stopping at his arse, and he squeezed the fleshy mounds hard enough to bruise. Draco whimpered in pain, and Harry immediately softened his grip, letting out a soft whine as his mouth deviated from Draco's, kissing and nipping his way along his jawline and to his throat, where he sucked a purple mark onto Draco's flesh, marking him as the alpha's mate.

“H-Harry...” Draco said, his voice escaping him as a moan, and he felt a soft vibration in his chest as Harry chuckled, then arched up to kiss him lightly.

“Feel good, love?” he asked softly, and Draco nodded a little. “Mark you all up...make sure everyone knows you're mine...” Harry murmured as he ran his tongue over the mark on Draco's throat, making it sting dully.

“Want...want you...” Draco panted as he gazed up at Harry, who was smirking confidently as he trailed one of his hands up and down Draco's side, causing him to shiver slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked as he reached down to squeeze his arse, while at the same moment he leant in to kiss Draco gently. “Want me to shag you, make you just _scream_ with pleasure?”

“Yes, please...” Draco groaned as Harry's hand on his arse inched closer and closer to his hole, teasing the entrance idly while the werewolf's tongue began to trace the outline of Draco's lips, and Draco immediately opened his mouth to admit him.

Harry kissed him again, plunging his tongue deep into Draco's mouth while at the same time he felt the hand lower down shift, and he shuddered as Harry cast a cleansing and lubrication charm. Draco moved to speak and protest this action, but Harry kissed him again to silence him, while his pointer finger snaked its way into his arse, making Draco groan.

“Like that, love?” Harry purred as he wormed it deeper into him, and Draco nodded weakly.

“S-so good,” Draco mumbled, “n-need more...”

Harry chuckled softly, kissing Draco again as he added a second finger, scissoring Draco gently while Draco grabbed at Harry, trying desperately to draw him closer, regardless that they were already skin-to-skin.

“Think you're ready for me, love?” Harry murmured as he dug his fingers into him, bordering between pleasure and pain. “Think your sweet, sweet arse is ready for my big cock?”

“It's been ready since we _started_ ,” Draco snapped with false impatience, making Harry laugh. “Get on with it.”

“Oh, baby, you really do know how to get me in the mood,” Harry said sarcastically, “please, stop, my knees are weak.”

“No more stupid remarks,” Draco panted as he parted his thighs a little more. “Harry, please...”

“All right, I'm sorry, love,” Harry said as he leant in for a gentle kiss, easing Draco's legs apart a little more as he straightened up, removed his fingers from Draco's arse, spelled them clean, and took hold of Draco's hips in a firm grip. Draco bit his lip as he gazed up at Harry, his trust in the werewolf unwavering as he positioned himself, and slowly eased his cock into Draco's arse.

Draco tilted his head back, a shuddering gasp slipping past his lips as he arse clenched around Harry's massive girth, and Harry chuckled softly, as though he knew what sort of effect this was having on his human.

Surprisingly, Harry gave Draco very little time to acclimate to his size before he pushed more in. He did not inch in like a careful lover, nor did he power drive into Draco like he cared little for the human's comfort. It was a strange mixture of the two, which left Draco panting and aroused, which made Harry's self-satisfied smirk widen even more.

“Feel good, love?” Harry asked as he sheathed himself inside of Draco fully.

“So...full...” Draco panted, his arse clenching around Harry's cock again as he arched up for a kiss, and Harry was all too happy to oblige him.

“My sweet little human...” Harry purred between kisses, his fingers knotted in Draco's hair as he rotated his hips, not quite thrusting, but moving just enough to make Draco tremble. “When I finish with you...you'll never want anyone else's cock inside you...you'll only ever hunger for mine.”

“Harry...” Draco keened, squirming a little beneath him. “Already I want no one else...just _fuck_ me, already.”

“ _So_ rude,” Harry teased, “I should punish you for that later...”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but at the same moment Harry pulled himself out, and thrust back in with a sharp snap of his hips, making Draco gasp sharply.

Draco squirmed, trying to match Harry's thrusts with his own movements, but he found himself pinned down, unable to do much more than accept Harry into his body, he jerking and gasping with every forceful thrust, lost to pleasure, almost little more than a fuck toy for Harry's use alone, but far from feeling ashamed of this, he _loved_ every second of it.

Harry picked up his pace, growling and grunting as he assaulted Draco's hole, pounding it unapologetically, while Draco thrashed beneath him.

Harry sought out his own pleasure, digging his fingertips into Draco's hips hard enough to leave bruises, sucking more marks into his throat and along his collarbone, raking his teeth along the column of flesh as he turned the fair skin purple and red with ease. After several long minutes Harry stiffened, and with another fierce growl, he released thick, hot ropes of cum into Draco's arse.

Apparently not quite finished with him yet, Harry closed his rough, callused hand around Draco's cock, stroking it with the same punishing force that he had used for fucking him, and did not stop until Draco shuddered and found his release, his back arching as he cried out, cum dotting his chest and abdomen as Harry smiled to himself and slowly pulled out of Draco, before finally laying down partially on top of him, and partially to the side, looking utterly satisfied.

“Good?” Harry asked.

“Do you even have to _ask_?” Draco demanded between sharp gasps of breath. “That was...I mean...that was _amazing_.”

Draco slumped back on the bed, huffing a little to show Harry just how much he had been worn out, and the werewolf chuckled as he climbed higher, and kissed the blond gently.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet little mate,” Harry purred, “we'll have to work on that endurance of yours so we can keep going _all_ night long.”

“Pervert,” Draco retorted without any real venom. “Is that really all you think about? Keeping me around for the shagging opportunities?”

“Oh, obviously,” Harry teased as he trailed his fingers across Draco's bare chest, mapping out the shape of it with a lazy smile upon his face. “That arse of yours is in for _quite_ the pounding.”

“I feel like I should be offended, but...” Draco offered Harry a small smile. “Clean me up and I think I'll find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“When it's so fun to hold you when we're all wet and sticky?”

“I've changed my mind,” Draco said as he wrinkled his nose. “That was disgusting. Forgiveness? _Never._ ”

“No, wait, wait!” Harry said as he laughed, and moved in to kiss him lightly. “I'll do it, no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“Too late,” Draco replied with a small smirk, “the trust is _gone_.”

Harry ignored him, and bowed his head to the little white splatters upon Draco's stomach. It took him a moment to realize what Harry was up to, and gasped as the werewolf's tongue laved over his sensitive skin, licking up the mixture of ejaculants upon Draco's skin.

“Harry...” Draco whimpered as Harry coaxed him onto his stomach and began to trace his hole with his fingertips once more, making him shiver.

“You should see what you look like, pet,” Harry purred as he trailed his fingers along the back of Draco's thigh. “I shot so much into you that you're leaking...” Harry trailed off as he collected the cum on his fingers, and gently stuffed it back into Draco, making him moan.

“No,” Draco whined without any real force behind the word, “that's...that's so...filthy...”

“But I can smell that you like it...do you really want me to stop, pet?” Harry purred as he worked the fingers in deeper, catching any cum that leaked out and pushed it back into Draco's arse, making Draco tremble as he heard the soft squelching that accompanied Harry's actions. _Why_ did such a strange, vulgar action feel so inexplicably _good_?

Draco groaned, not quite able to make up his mind whether he really wanted Harry to stop or not, but already the human was hard again and aching for his mate, and Harry seemed all too happy to mount him and take him again.

 


	15. Wolf Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Here is the final chapter. Sorry for the delay in posting it, but it came out to about twice as long as one of my usual chapters, so it took a bit longer to put together. Please enjoy :)

Chapter Fifteen – The Wolf Moon

 

Draco would have liked to experience the act of waking up naturally in the mornings like he used to—that is to say, at a slow pace. The songbirds of the morning filtering into his mind, the sun's first rays cresting the tops of the trees before creeping into the window, where Draco would be slowly roused from sleep, while he rested peacefully in the arms of his lover.

But when one shares their living space with a six-year-old, that was not to be.

“ _Wake up!_ ” Teddy screamed, roughly three seconds before he crash-landed on top Draco and Harry with the force of a charging bull. Both young men grunted, and Draco was nearly forced out of the bed by the move. Only Harry's arm across his hips stopped him from falling out, while Teddy stood and began to jump up and down on the bed. “ _Up, up, UP!”_ he cried. “It's the moon! It's Draco Alpha's first moon! Get up, you sleepies!”

_I'm going to kill this kid..._ Draco thought as he sat up with a small groan and glared at the child, who stopped his jumping long enough to offer Draco an innocent grin before he turned and tried to run off, but Harry was too quick for him, and grabbed him with a playful growl, making him shriek with delight as Harry pinned him down, and began to fiercely tickle him.

“Don't jump on our bed!” Harry said, “or the punishment is... _tickle attack!_ ”

“Noooo!” Teddy cried between bouts of giggling, while Draco dove in and joined Harry in torturing the youngster, who was red-faced from laughing so hard.

“Now,” Harry panted as he sat back a little, but continued to hold Teddy down gently, “are you gonna stop waking us up at the crack of dawn?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Teddy said, but the little giggly sigh that escaped him at the same time told Draco that the little demon had no intention whatsoever of following through with that promise. He kicked his legs a little when Harry did not immediately let him go, and turned to Draco with the same innocent grin upon his face. “Draco Alpha, are we still going foresting today? You promised you take me, 'member?”

“ _Foraging_ , Teddy,” Draco replied as he stifled a yawn. “Yes, I remember. Let me wake up and have a wash, and we can go. I suppose one of the upsides to you being our alarm clock is the fact that I can collect some potions ingredients that should only be collected at dawn...”

“What's an arm clock?”

“ _Alarm_ ,” Draco corrected as he stood and stretched, while Harry finally let Teddy up. “It's a device that wakes you up if you need to get up early.”

“So...like me?” Teddy asked, and Draco chuckled as he reached out to ruffle the tot's hair.

“Yes, Ted, _exactly_ like you.”

 

~*~

 

After a quick wash and getting dressed, Draco found Harry standing outside the bathroom door with something in his hands. It was tall and cylindrical, made of some sort of shiny red metal. The top was black, with some sort of knob on it, and Harry was cradling it carefully as he said, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah?” Draco asked with a similar faint smile. “Does it have something to do with the thing in your hands?”

“Amazingly, yes, it does,” Harry said with a laugh, and held the thing out. “Here. Twist the knob on top until it says _open_ , and take a sniff.”

Draco accepted it, still eyeing Harry curiously as he clicked the little knob as he directed, and a small curl of steam escaped from the small hole that had appeared upon the side Draco leant forward—somewhat hesitantly—to smell it, and all but moaned out loud when he realized what it was.

“ _Coffee_ ,” he moaned, and Harry chuckled.

“Surprise,” Harry said as he stepped forward to kiss his mate lightly. “I had my beta go and get it for you from the nearby village. And that's a muggle thermos, so it'll stay hot while you and Teddy go around the woods getting what you need for your stores.”

“First moon with the pack gift?” Draco teased, and Harry chuckled as he leant in for another kiss.

“More a gift 'cause I love you,” Harry replied. “I get that you're human, and need some things that we don't, like cooked meat, and a bed...and coffee, apparently.”

“Mother was always horrified that I preferred coffee over tea,” Draco said as he glanced down at the thermos, and sniffed the aroma of the drink again. “She said I was abandoning my English roots, or something of the like...I can't remember all of her rant.”

“Well, none of us think any less of you for it,” Harry said, brushing his fingers under Draco's chin as he spoke, and lifted his gaze to meet the alpha's. He kissed him again, pulling him close and crushing the thermos between them, making Draco moan feebly.

“Oh, Harry, don't do this to me now,” Draco said softly. “Teddy's waiting, and if I miss my window for those herbs I want to get, I'll need to wait 'til the next full moon...”

“Is that so bad?” Harry purred, pulling the thermos from Draco's hands to stop him from dropping it. “Upside to the moon, is that it always turns to full, one way or another...”

“Harry, come on,” Draco groaned as Harry's mouth moved to nibble at his throat. “I promise we can do this later, when we don't have a hyperactive six-year-old hovering around the house, who could burst in on us at any minute...”

“You are no fun,” Harry whined, “please, love? Just five minutes...”

“Draco Alpha, what is _taking_ so long?” a little voice called out, quickly followed by a set of feet pitter-pattering towards them, and Harry groaned, while Draco let out a little snort of laughter.

“Told you,” Draco murmured softly, and Harry smiled weakly.

 

~*~

 

With his coffee in hand, and Teddy toddling behind him proudly as he carried Draco's satchel, the pair delved into the woods to collect potions ingredients for Draco's slowly growing stores.

“Draco Alpha?” Teddy said as he added a wrapped-up bundle of nettles to Teddy's bag.

“Yes?”

“How come Alpha thinks wizards is so bad?” he asked, gazing up with wide amber eyes at Draco. “I mean, you've been with us for a whole four-night, and you've been good.”

“ _Fortnight_ ,” Draco corrected, but the tot ignored it, and Draco sighed softly as he tried to figure out how to best answer the question. “Because...not all wizards are good. Your alpha saw a lot of bad things, more than most, in fact, and now he is...wary of them, I suppose. He had friends that are wizards, and is still reluctant to speak to them because of all that has happened...it's complicated, Teddy.”

“Grownups _always_ say 'it's complicated',” Teddy grumbled, and Draco smiled at him.

“Because it is. Growing up is hard, and when you become a grownup you find out that things aren't always good or bad...they can be many things.”

“D'you think that's why Alpha forgot it's my birfday today?” Teddy asked curiously. “I'm seven now, but he _forgot_. Is it cos he's a grownup, and his complicated head got confused?”

“Well, he _is_ a bit slow at times,” Draco replied with a small smirk that made his little cousin giggle. “Should we remind him when we get back?”

“Can you punish him, Draco Alpha?” Teddy asked with a devious little grin, “you're an alpha too, so you can punish him without getting in trouble, right?”

“What sort of punishment do you think I should give him?” Draco asked with a chuckle as he stood up and turned, leading the boy down towards some agaric mushrooms, snapping on his dragonhide gloves and withdrawing a little bag from the satchel, before he moved over to collect them.

“Umm...oh, a spanking?” Teddy asked innocently, and Draco nearly dropped his bag as he choked on a laugh.

“You don't think Harry might enjoy that too much?” Draco asked before he could think better of it, and a horrified expression came over the boy as he stared back at Draco.

“No _way!_ ” he cried as Draco began to collect the poisonous mushrooms. “Spankings is _awful_. Alpha walloped me once a-cos I wandered off when he told me not to, and it was terrible. How could spankings ever be good?”

“Ask Alpha about that one when you're older,” Draco retorted, just barely managing to keep in his laughter at the utterly bewildered expression that settled upon the boy's face.

 

They continued their foraging, collecting everything from Morning Dew and rainwater in little vials, to various herbs, fungi, and other plants. Draco had opted to save the less savoury collection for when Teddy wasn't present—such as eye or rat or lacewing flies—though in retrospect, likely the little wolf pup would not have minded very much.

Teddy seemed to deeply enjoy the role of Draco's helper, and marched behind him proudly, his added werewolf strength meaning that the weight of the bag—while not particularly heavy, may have bothered a human child—but Teddy did not seem to feel it, and kept up with Draco's long stride without effort.

Close to noon, Draco decided that they'd best be getting back, and called to Teddy, “time to go home!” which was met with a small groan.

“Do we _has_ to, Draco Alpha?” Teddy asked while Draco drained the last of his coffee, “this is fun, I like being Mother's Little Helper.”

Draco's eyes watered as his coffee shot out of his nose, and Teddy's eyes went wide, startled by the violent reaction as Draco coughed and turned towards Teddy as he rasped, “who on _earth_ called me that?”

“Alpha.”

“Of course he did,” Draco replied as he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, mopping his face of coffee, while he muttered, “I am going to _kill_ that man.” Teddy's eyes went a little wide as he watched Draco rake a hand through his hair, then relieved Teddy of his satchel as he said, “come on, we better be getting back.”

“Okay,” Teddy said as he fell into step with Draco, still staring up at him with wide eyes, perhaps in slight awe at Draco's proclamation. This was quickly verified when he asked, “if you kill Alpha, will you be Alpha?”

“I think you'd be Alpha next,” Draco replied with a small, wry smile. “Given that I'm human, I don't think my being Alpha would go over well.”

“Then I can marry you!” Teddy chirped happily, and Draco snorted as he rolled his eyes. It hadn't been the first time in recent days that Teddy had proclaimed that he wanted to marry Draco, and the _we are cousins_ explanation had gone well over his head. If nothing else, it told Draco that the boy _really_ had a thing for blonds.

“Yeah, sure,” Draco said with a short laugh, and the little demon offered him a sunny smile.

 

~*~

 

Draco smirked to himself when after twenty minutes of hiking, they began to close in on home. He was markedly pleased he had no plans to go hunting with Teddy, as his penchant to chatter endlessly would have quickly chased all the game away. If nothing else, keeping his focus on Teddy was distracting his mind from other, less pleasant matters—such as his first moon that night.

Over the last fortnight, Harry had reminded Draco what felt like no less than seven thousand times that he would be completely safe during the moon, but Draco still had a hard time believing it.

 

“You smell like pack, and more than that, you have _my_ scent all over you,” Harry had said. “You'll need to submit to me, but once I accept you as pack, the others will have no issue. They'd follow me into anything, and they trust me, regardless of their forms. Once they see me accept you, they will trust you, just as they do in their human forms. I promise you, Draco, you have _nothing_ to worry about.”

 

Draco hated that he still struggled to believe it. His mind kept rushing back to the fact that though Teddy was practically Harry's family, he had still turned him. Wouldn't a familial bond have stopped something like that from happening?

_Or perhaps Teddy had been too young to control it..._ Draco mused as he glanced over to the pup, who was still chattering away happily, apparently unaware of Draco's inner turmoil. When he spotted Draco watching him, he paused his monologue to offer him a wide grin, which caused Draco to chuckle as he reached down to ruffle Teddy's hair affectionately.

 

As the pair closed in on the edges of the pack's territory, Draco slowed his gait slightly, though Teddy didn't seem to notice. Draco smirked to himself as he watched Teddy toddle on ahead without a care, then watched as Teddy crossed into the territory accompanied by a loud cheer, which startled him so much that he fell back onto his bottom.

“ _SURPRISE!_ ”

Draco smirked as Teddy continued to stare open-mouthed at the rest of the pack, who were all beaming at him, and the territory itself bedecked in naturalistic, homemade decorations, as well as a table near the bonfire piled high with food, as well as a beautiful iced cake.

“You didn't forget!” Teddy cried happily as he ran at Harry, who laughed as he caught the boy and spun him through the air, Teddy shrieking with delight as they went.

“Of course I didn't forget,” Harry replied as he held his godson, “just _who_ do you think I am?”

“Now Draco Alpha won't have to spank you!”

Dead silence followed Teddy's innocent proclamation, while Draco groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“ _Spank_ me?” Harry asked with a snort, “where is this coming from?”

“Well, I thought you forgoted my birthday, so we thought that Draco Alpha should punish you for forgetting!” Teddy chirped in the same innocent voice, and Draco felt his face turn a deep scarlet as he peeked past his fingers to see the rest of the pack just barely holding back their laughter.

Smirking to himself, Harry set a grinning Teddy down, and Nina swept in to lead him off towards where the other pack children were playing. Teddy was soon swallowed up by the small crowd as Harry sauntered over to Draco, and slipped one of his arms around the human's waist, the look of amusement never leaving his eyes as he gently pried Draco's hands away from his red face, then leant in for a kiss.

“Dare I ask what sort of bizarre conversation you were having with my godson?” Harry asked sweetly, and Draco groaned.

“Childish innocence and your penchant for light kink combined to create yet another embarrassing situation for me...” Draco grumbled, and Harry chuckled.

“C'mon, love, you can tell me,” Harry cooed, “or do I need to _pump_ you for information?”

“Any excuse to get me back into the bedroom, eh?” Draco retorted, and Harry smirked again. “Teddy thought you had forgotten his birthday, since you said nothing this morning, and he decided that the best way to punish you for it was for me to spank you, since in his mind I wouldn't get reprimanded for it.”

“God, I _love_ kids,” Harry said as he barked a laugh. “Their logic is _brilliant_.”

“Of course you do,” Draco retorted, “since you are so bloody _childish_.”

“Naughty, naughty,” Harry said with a low, teasing growl, “I'm still your alpha, you can't talk to me like that.”

“Yeah?” Draco replied in a similar tone, “are you going to _punish_ me for it?”

“Oh, definitely,” Harry purred as he leant in and nipped at the purple mark he'd left of Draco's throat the night before, making the human gasp softly. “I think I need to—once more—remind you of your place in the pack.”

“You talk as though I dislike being beneath you,” Draco purred, his lips curving into a devious smirk. “On the contrary, it's one of my _favourite_ positions.”

Grinning, both Harry and Draco slunk away from the festivities.

 

~*~

 

“We don't have long,” Harry said in a rush as he shut the cabin door behind them, and he began to drag Draco down the hall to their bedroom. “I'm supposed to oversee events like this, and Teddy will probably come looking for us, so I'd guess we have a window of maybe fifteen minutes...”

“Think you can last that long?” Draco retorted when they made it to the room, and smirked when Harry all but tossed him onto the bed, and he arched his brow at Harry invitingly.

“Is that a challenge?” Harry asked, his voice dropping slightly in volume as he stepped closer, his stance becoming more predatory as he approached the bed.

Draco bit his lip as he watched, his sly retort chased away by the way Harry's eyes seemed to flare golden—just for a moment—before they reverted back to green as he visibly fought allowing the wolf to take over. Draco could feel his stomach churning with both nervousness and arousal, but the latter successfully won out when Harry climbed on top of him and devoured his mouth in a kiss.

 

Clothing was shed hastily, and Draco did not voice any protest when Harry cast cleansing, lubrication, and preparation charms on him, though he could not help but shiver involuntarily.

“Sorry, love,” Harry murmured, and kissed Draco's lips lightly. “But I just don't want Teddy bursting in with ten other kids before we can finish...”

“No, it's all right,” Draco replied as he turned over under his wolf, baring his arse to him, “keep going...”

“Oh, baby...” Harry purred as he leant forward, pressing his chest to Draco's back and blanketing him with his body. He bit at Draco's throat, making the skin sting, and he shuddered as Harry's tongue laved over the blooming bruise gently. “I'm gonna cover you with my scent, so much that no one will ever be able to question where you belong...”

“If it's under you, I have no complaints whatsoever,” Draco replied, repeating his sentiment from earlier, and smirked to himself when Harry let out another low growl close to a purr.

“Mine...” Harry murmured as he shifted, and Draco's breath caught when he felt Harry's cock brush his entrance.

“Yours, always yours,” Draco panted, squirming experimentally in Harry's hold, only to have him growl and tighten his grip on him. Unlike their first encounter when this attitude had frightened him, this time Draco moaned his assent.

With Harry holding onto him tightly, he slowly sank into Draco's waiting arse.

Draco's fingers wound through the blankets, gripping them firmly as he let out a soft groan, his cock twitching beneath him as Harry filled his arse. Harry growled again as he bit at Draco's neck, like a natural wolf holding its breeding partner in place, and Draco shuddered once more in a confusing mixture of arousal and fear. One little nip would be enough to change him, and Harry was biting down hard enough to bruise.

“The moon makes my mate smell so good...” Harry growled out between ragged breaths, “so...so... _good_...”

“Gods above, Harry, _please_ ,” Draco keened as his alpha fully sheathed himself inside the human, “f-fuck me!”

Harry let out a soft, throaty chuckle as he drew back, and thrust back in sharply, making Draco moan. Unlike the first time they'd fucked, now Draco found a rhythm much more easily, and moved with Harry like two parts of a well-oiled machine.

“S-so good,” Harry choked out softly, this time without a growl in his voice. “Draco, you feel so _good_...”

“Harry...” Draco moaned as he pressed his forehead against the mattress, and grunted when his mate snapped his hips, fucking him harder.

Harry abandoned his mindfulness of Draco's comfort as he drove into him harder, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic the closer to orgasm he got, and he let out a sharp, wolfish snarl as he reached down and grasped Draco's cock, jerking him off so quickly that he found his release before Harry did, and slumped bonelessly against the duvet while Harry continued to use his arse roughly, pounding him into oblivion as he dug his fingers in harder, and flooded Draco's arse with his seed.

Harry slumped down, effectively crushing Draco beneath him. When he let out a soft gasp of discomfort, Harry rolled over, pulling his softening cock from Draco's arse while he drew him close, nuzzling the point where his neck met his shoulders affectionately, then kissed the bruised skin.

“Love you,” Harry murmured, and Draco felt his heart flutter as he smiled.

“Love you too,” Draco replied, and he heard Harry chuckle behind him. “Really, it's amazing how we could go from petty school rivals to...well, _this,_ ”

“Lovers? Mates?” Harry asked as Draco rolled over in his arms to face him, them his smile widened as he said, “ _soul_ mates?”

“You are _so_ cheesy,” Draco retorted as he laughed, and swatted lightly at Harry's chest. “How come...erm...”

“How come what?” Harry asked, but fell silent when it became clear to Harry that Draco was trying to think of how to phrase it.

“How come you're so calm now, when before you were so territorial of me it bordered on terrifying?” Draco asked, “I mean, when I first accidentally stepped into your lands, I was certain you were going to do something horrid, but now...you're so...I don't know how to say it exactly, but...you make me feel safe.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Harry purred as he leant in for a kiss. “New claims are almost always a bit...mental, to put it lightly. Hormones racing, your mind clouded by the need to show everyone what is yours...I've seen some pretty odd things happen in the name of mate claims, and not all of it good. Two males in one of my old packs were fighting over one female, and they practically ripped each other apart before the alpha was able to intervene, so by comparison, what I did to you, though I imagine it wasn't fun, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.”

“Although in future, if you don't want to scare off your potential mate...holding them hostage isn't generally the best course of action,” Draco said dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke.

“I think I worked that bit out for myself,” Harry retorted, kissing Draco again. “After you ran off, my instincts took a dramatic shift when I realized that to keep you, so to speak. I realized that I couldn't try and own you, or tame your fire—I needed to nurture it; I needed to make you feel safe and loved, not treat you like a prize to be won.”

“That's me,” Draco replied dryly, making his mate smile warmly, “the human who needs mad things like to feel safe and loved, not reassured by how strong and manly you are.”

“But I _am_ strong and manly,” Harry purred, his voice low and husky, which made Draco laugh. “The whole world could come down on this territory, and I'd always protect you.”

“Don't jinx it,” Draco warned, “I like this peace we have here, I don't want to lose it _or_ you.”

“Deal,” Harry replied with a warm chuckle as he nuzzled Draco's shoulder again. “How are you feeling about tonight? Still nervous?”

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't,” Draco replied with a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping as he glanced away from Harry. “I trust that you can protect me, but Harry...you must understand why I am afraid...you're asking me to spend a full moon with a pack of beings who can rip me apart as easily as blinking. It isn't the most stress-free scenario.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you to put you at ease about it...” Harry said as he ran a hand across Draco's chest, making him shiver. “But I don't know what else I can say. My scent on you will make the others know that you're pack, in spite of the fact that you're human. What else can I do to make you feel better?”

“Honestly?” Draco asked as he rolled back onto his side and shifted closer to Harry, the werewolf immediately drawing him into his arms, “I have no idea. I think it's the fear of the unknown that's scaring me most. I think once it's over I'll feel much better.”

“That's good to hear,” Harry replied as me moved in to kiss his human, “and then you'll truly know that you had nothing to be afraid of.”

 

~*~

 

Harry and Draco returned to the party, where Teddy was still surrounded by youngsters, playing some sort of complicated tag game, where one of the children (Teddy, at that particular instance) would be blindfolded, and they would use their apparent werewolf senses to find their playmates without their eyes.

“I came up with that game,” Harry said proudly as they watched Teddy stumble around a tree and chase after one of the other children, who let out a little squeak as she tried to avoid being caught. “Helps to hone their senses in our human forms when it's sometimes harder to tap into our predatory abilities. It'll make them good hunters when the time comes.”

“That's actually quite clever...for you,” Draco teased, “I thought it was only Granger who would know how to disguise something educational as a game like that.”

“Oi, watch your mouth,” Harry retorted, elbowing him lightly, “I happen to be _very_ clever.”

“And just _who_ was first and second in our year for marks again?” Draco asked lightly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Quiet, you,” Harry said as they meandered around the territory, stopping at one of the clusters of adults, who were all laughing, except for one of the men, who looked distinctly put-out. Harry sat at his side, raising his eyebrows, while Draco joined him after a moment's hesitation as Harry asked, “something bothering you, Seb?”

“Mostly those three,” he said sourly as he nodded towards Nadine, Nina, and a third female that Draco had only recently gotten to know, named Lacey. Harry turned his gaze to the three giggling women, and arched a brow at them, inviting them to explain.

“Oh, it's nothing, Alpha,” Nadine said as she calmed down a little. “We just overheard Seb and his mate talking, Rolf, you know, and _turns out_ the big, strong dominant wolf that Seb is, he apparently enjoys his mate playing with his arse. Like fingers and tongue inside and all that. Can you even _imagine_ a dominant wolf enjoying such a thing?”

“Colour me stunned,” Harry said sarcastically as he exchanged a look with Draco, who pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. He wasn't supremely keen on Harry sharing their bed activities with a group of the pack members, but just as the thought crossed his mind, Harry said, “Draco, love, tell me—just _what_ was it that we were doing last night when Teddy was otherwise occupied? It was something to do with your fingers...my arse...what was it again?”

“Don't drag me into this,” Draco muttered, his face flushing red.

“Oh, you're so cute when you're flustered,” Harry cooed, “but even _cuter_ when you're fingering my hole.” He turned pointedly to the three women, whose mouths had dropped open in shock. “Care to offer up any teasing remarks on _my_ bedroom antics, ladies?”

Draco pressed his lips together in an effort to stifle the amused smirk that was threatening to overtake his expression as he took in the sight of the utterly gobsmacked looks upon the faces of the women. Harry, in contrast, looked proud of his admission, and went even further as he added, “there is _nothing_ emasculating about having your arse played with. In fact, it is one of the great _pleasures_ of being a gay man.”

Harry paused again, his smile never faltering as he observed the little group. The women looked shamefaced, while Sebastien, in contrast, appeared as though he was trying to keep from smiling too broadly.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Sebastien murmured when the women awkwardly made excuses to leave and check on the children, and Harry shook his head as he clapped his packmate on the knee.

“Don't think on it,” Harry replied, “those three should know better than to tease you about something like that. If they do it again, feel free to use my arse to back yourself up.”

Sebastien chuckled and nodded, while Harry leant in to bump his cheek against the fellow dominant's in a show of affection.

At the same moment, Teddy came barrelling forwards and grabbed Harry's hand, immediately beginning to tug on the limb as he said, “Alpha, Alpha, will you come play with us?”

Harry chuckled as he turned momentarily to Draco and offered him a helpless shrug before he was dragged off. Draco smirked as he watched his mate run and chase the young werewolves of the pack, making them shriek with delight when Harry happened to catch up to one of them.

Draco cast a glance towards Sebastien, or Seb, as most of the pack called him. He never spent much time with the dominant wolves of the pack—their energies, for some strange reason, always made him a little edgy, but the dominant was not looking at Draco; his gaze was fixed upon Harry and the pups.

“You've been good for him,” Sebastien said suddenly, and Draco turned back to him.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, and the dominant wolf offered him a small smile.

“Alpha, I mean,” he explained. “Alpha has changed so much since you came...it's good. He's always been a good alpha, but before you, he always had this... _coldness_ , I suppose, about him. The only person he ever allowed to get close was Teddy, and even then he kept his son at a distance. You opened him up, Alpha Draco, and he will be a better alpha because of you.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Draco replied, not quite used to hearing praise from others of the pack just yet, “but I must admit, I haven't really done anything...”

“You thawed Alpha's heart,” Sebastien said, “that is more significant than you realize.”

_We'll see how much good it does me after the sun goes down,_ Draco thought, but he did not dare voice the remark aloud as he forced a smile and nodded his head.

 

~*~

 

The day passed far too quickly for Draco's liking, and though he did his best to not let his fear show, he was fairly certain that the whole pack could sense it.

Some of the female werewolves, Nina, Nadine, and Lacey, who had grown quite attached to Draco (in particular the hair care potions that he brewed for them) made it particularly obvious in how they approached him less, allowing him to spend more time with his mate, but still whispered feverishly to one another as they cast one another significant glances while they spied on their resident human.

“I have the strangest feeling I'm being watched...” Draco muttered during Teddy's birthday dinner, which was comprised mostly of pheasant—Teddy's favourite. Draco brought a piece of the roasted meat to his lips as Harry chuckled softly, and he arched a brow at the alpha. “Is something funny about that?”

“Love, you're as tense as a violin string,” Harry said as he rested a hand on his knee, and squeezed gently. “ _Everyone_ can sense your fear about the moon tonight, so it's not all that surprising that they'd be watching you. Not all of them understand why you're so afraid.”

“Why is it so hard to grasp that I will be the proverbial grasshopper in a chicken coop?” Draco hissed back, his voice shaking with frustration as he spoke. “ _Why_ is it so hard to comprehend? I love you, and I care for Teddy, and I like the rest of your pack, I do, but I _still_ don't understand how scent alone will convince your wolf minds that I am not _dinner_.”

“Okay, that's _it—_ we're going for a walk, right now,” Harry hissed as he grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him up from the dinner circle. Draco yelped as his food fell into the grass, but Harry ignored it as he dragged Draco well out of earshot of the others and pushed him against an oak tree hard enough that his head swung back a little, and it knocked painfully against the trunk. Draco glared at him, but Harry did not appear at all intimidated by the look as he opened his mouth and began to speak.

“Look,” Harry said with an angry huff, “I understand that you're nervous, and you're stressed to the limit because in an hour or so you'll be surrounded by a pack of turned wolves. _I get it_ , Draco.

“But you cannot go round making comments like that—you're really going to hurt the pack by saying those things, and your offhanded remarks will make them all think that you see us as vicious, mindless beasts. _And,_ to top it off, most of them are not turned wolves, they're born wolves—that means that they have had little or no contact with humans, and the little contact they _have_ had was at Voldemort's hands, or one of his cronies, so when you talk like that, they think that you are being serious, not sarcastic.”

“I—I'm not scared of them...” Draco began, but before he could continue, Harry cut him off.

“Then what _are_ you scared of?” Harry demanded. “Can you even begin to imagine how it feels to hear or sense that one of your leaders appears to view you as a monster? That your sodding _mate_ sees you that way? We have done everything we can to make you feel safe here, and I know that some of the others have also reassured you that you'll be safe during the moon, so _what_ is it that has you so scared?”

“I am not scared of them, or of you,” Draco began, and took a small step towards Harry. When he moved back and out of reach, Draco felt his heart clench. “But you _must_ understand what you are asking of me. I am human, and my only defence if something were to go wrong is my magic—which by and large, _does not work on turned werewolves_. You are asking me to spend an entire night with a group of wild animals which are wholly unpredictable. I understand that you lot are not animals, or beasts, or somehow _less_ because of what you are. If I believed that, do you truly think I would share a bed with you night after night?

“In your wolf forms under the full moon however, I _know_ that it will be different. You become _true_ wolves. I am scared of what might happen if my scent, as you say, is not enough. What happens if one of them—or you—come after me? I will be defenceless, and you could kill me by accident. _That_ is what I am scared of.”

“Oh, Draco...” Harry said with a soft sigh as he stepped forward, the look of betrayal dissolving from his features as he gathered his human into his arms and kissed him tenderly. “I know to you it might not seem like much, but to us, scent is a very powerful thing. It's like...like...like a shield charm, sort of. It will protect you, and it will tell the rest of the pack that you are one of us, regardless that your shape is different. I swear to you, it will be enough to keep you safe, but maybe...” he paused, and cocked his head to the side. “What about if you and I spend the first few minutes of the moon alone, in our cabin?”

Draco blinked in confusion, and eyed Harry oddly.

“What?”

“Yeah. I'll transform alone with just you, and once you feel comfortable with just me, we'll rejoin the pack. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, I...yeah,” Draco agreed almost at once, his voice escaping him as a sigh, while he felt himself begin to properly relax for the first time all day. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

The alpha pair returned to the party just in time for the cake to be served, and though Draco did not miss the apprehensive looks other pack members shot his way, he did not have it in him to feel offended by them. He conducted himself normally, as though he did not notice their attitudes, and as they ate their slices of chocolate cake, slowly the pack seemed to relax, though their newfound distrust never fully faded from their eyes.

“Just relax,” Harry murmured in his ear, “you'd be amazed at how werewolves have an endless capacity to forgive.”

“That remains to be seen,” Draco retorted, and Harry huffed a soft laugh, but did not argue.

 

Draco said little else during the round of cake, and watched silently as the pack cooks took back the plates and carried them to the wash basin, some using werewolf magic, and others using wands to hastily clear up the mess, while others began to disappear into the woods. Teddy had returned to playing with the other pack children, though now there seemed to be a feral edge to their play, like their wolf minds were beginning to assert themselves well before the sun had even gone down.

“What's happening?” Draco asked as he watched the empty spaces of woods where the other pack adults had disappeared. “Where are they going?”

“Lacey, Rolf, and Seb are going to adjust the territory's warding,” Harry explained, “we only do it during the moon; we strengthen it with magical barriers to keep us from slipping out and possibly attacking a human by accident. We take no risks; we don't want the Ministry to have any excuse to come down on us.”

“That's very...cautious of you,” Draco said, and Harry chuckled.

“I'm glad you think so.”

 

~*~

 

Draco could not not take his eyes off the sky.

The crystal-clear blue slowly faded to a deep orange shot with pink, and with the sun hiding behind the tops of the trees, it made the forest appear as though it was on fire.

Though Draco did his best to remain calm and not let his fear for the night show, he knew now that it was futile, and that so close to moonrise, the whole pack would be able to feel it.

Teddy seemed to be doubly affected by his attitude, and stopped his rough play with his companions to look back at Draco frequently, only to be pulled back into it with a cry from his friends, though his attention on them never seemed to last very long.

Draco took a slow breath in an effort calm himself, and returned his gaze to the sky, though it lasted mere moments before Harry drew his attention to him by resting a hand on his back as he perched his head upon Draco's shoulder.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, “anything...I don't know, to help you feel better?”

“I think I'll feel better once the moon is up and I can see for myself that you lot mean me no harm,” Draco said. “I want to believe it, I do, but it's...hard.”

Harry bowed his head forward and nuzzled at Draco's cheek in a very wolfish manner, making him smile weakly as he brought his hand to the back of Harry's neck and squeezed it affectionately. Harry let out a soft growl as he tensed, and Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise at the reaction.

“Don't...not now...” Harry mumbled, and shook his head. “So close to the moon, that's a show of dominance, what you're doing. Not a good idea...”

“I'm sorry,” Draco said as he quickly dropped his hand, and tilted his head to the side, exposing his throat. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know that you didn't, it's fine...” Harry said, breathing heavily as he nuzzled at Draco's throat, panting, though Draco was not entirely certain whether he was trying to calm down, or was suddenly very aroused.

“'M sorry,” Harry mumbled, hugging Draco closer as he spoke. “This close to the moon...controlling emotions is hard.”

“Is there anything I can...erm...do?”

“Hearing Draco Malfoy, of all people, asking to _help_ is so strange...” Harry said, and Draco snorted.

“Shut up,” he said without any real venom, and Harry smiled at him as he straightened up, and leant in for a kiss.

Draco kissed him back, his heart thundering in his chest, but for the first time all day, not out of fear. Draco lifted a hand to Harry's cheek, his fingers brushing over the sparse stubble upon his skin, while Harry chuckled softly, apparently amused by his touch, and wrapped a firm, muscular arm around his waist to hold his human fast against him.

“Mine...” Harry growled, his breath distinctly laboured. “My mate...”

“Harry—” Draco began, but before he could protest, Harry sealed his lips over Draco's pulse point on his throat.

Draco clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain of teeth breaking his skin, but somewhere in his instinct-addled mind he seemed to remember Draco not _wanting_ to be turned, and instead he felt his werewolf mate suckle at his throat before he raked his teeth across the spot, hard enough to bruise.

Harry pulled his lips from Draco's throat, and moved a hand to rest it at the back of Draco's neck, which he squeezed firmly, but not painfully. At the same time, he rested his forehead against Draco's, still panting hard as he gazed into his human's eyes.

“Now everyone will know that you're mine,” Harry breathed, “no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Draco echoed as he wrapped his arms around Harry and dragged him into a tight hug. “Even if no one knew, I'd still be yours, I hope you know that.”

“Moon is coming,” Harry breathed, apparently unaware of Draco's statement, “need to...we need to...”

“...get ready?” Draco finished for him, and he nodded.

“Hard to focus,” Harry said, “never...I never had to focus like this before...”

“I'll help you,” Draco said softly, while around him he was distantly aware of the other pack members beginning to shed their clothes. Teddy began to wander over to where Draco and Harry were standing, but Nadine intervened quickly and shunted him back over to the other children, but if she said anything to him, Draco was too far to catch it. “Tell me what to do.”

“Have...have to get to cabin,” Harry said, trembling a little as Draco held him. “Need to get clothes off, or I might h-hurt myself. When turned, d-do not challenge me, or I might hurt you by accident. W-when you do not know what to do, just s-show me your n-neck...”

“Right, step one, cabin,” Draco said as he helped Harry turn around. “Easy enough. Come on, Mr Alpha, let's go.”

With his arm still around Harry's waist, he led him away from the main area of the territory, and back towards the cabins.

 

Draco made it back to their cabin thankfully without incident, and with a quick flick of his wand, he banished all the furniture against the walls before he turned back to Harry, who was already trying to worm his way out of his clothes. Draco could feel him shaking, and his eyes were flickering between green and gold like a sputtering candle, though this time, Draco understood exactly why—for the first time in his life, Harry was trying to fight the change.

“Harry, please,” Draco murmured as he helped him peel off his long-sleeved T-shirt, “just a little longer, hold on in there...”

Harry moaned, the sound somewhere between a human and lupine sound, and clearly one of genuine pain. Draco winced, but did not allow himself to stop as he guided Harry to the ground and helped him out of the rest of his clothes before he banished them to the bedroom down the hall, then turned back to his mate, just in time to see the change finally take over.

Strangely, the transformation from human to wolf this time around seemed to be much more painful, at least from an outsider's perspective. Harry fell onto all fours, his teeth bared and back arched. Even in the low light, Draco could see Harry's arteries standing out on his neck, and when his fingers dug into the wooden flooring, he heard the planks crack.

Harry shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears, and another snarl ripped its way from his lips as his bones cracked and snapped, his face elongated into a snout, and dark, thick fur began to sprout over his entire body, flooding his form until a huge, black, shaggy wolf replaced Harry Potter.

Unlike the wolf form of Harry that Draco had seen multiple times before, this one did not bear his distinctive green eyes. Instead they were a fierce yellow, and at first, Draco could not understand why there would be such a change in his form. After a moment however, Draco understood.

Before, he had been seeing the wolf with Harry's human mind still in control.

This time however, he was pure wolf.

 

Draco felt his legs give out as he slumped to the ground, and despite his vain efforts to keep himself calm, he felt almost dizzy with fright as he stared at the enormous werewolf before him.

Harry did not seem to notice Draco fall to the floor. Instead, his entire focus was fixed upon his odd surroundings. His nose was pressed to the wood flooring, and he was pawing at it curiously, leaving deep gouges in the wood with little effort. The wolf straightened up after a moment and shook himself, then turned his fierce gaze to Draco.

Draco tensed, his breath catching, but through his haze of fear, he still recalled Harry's instructions, and immediately submitted himself to the wolf by tilting his head far to the side, exposing as much of his neck as he could.

Harry's lip curled back as he growled softly, and Draco tensed. He dropped his eyes quickly as he held his breath, uncertain what he did wrong, just as a huge, heavy paw pressed against his chest, forcing him onto his back.

Draco did not fight the order as the werewolf urged him down onto the ground. Draco kept his neck exposed and his eyes averted, but he could do little about his violently racing heart.

A cold, wet nose brushed at the hollow of Draco's throat, and his breath caught again. He screwed his eyes shut while he lay still and listened to the sound of Harry snuffling at his throat, scenting him so thoroughly that it felt almost intimate, despite his drastic change in shape.

Though it could not have lasted more than a few moments, to Draco it felt like hours. He held his breath, laying as still as he could, until finally— _finally—_ Harry's tail began to wag, and he licked Draco's cheek.

Draco opened his eyes and looked up, careful to avoid meeting the werewolf's eyes directly as he did so, and asked, “H-Harry?”

Harry yipped, and bowed his head forward as he nuzzled Draco's cheek, making the human chuckle as he reached up to stroke the enormous wolf, and his tail wagged again.

“I suppose this means you have no intentions to kill me?” Draco asked lightly, but Harry did not respond to his words, but instead continued to scent and nuzzle his mate like an excited puppy.

Chuckling a little, Draco slowly stood up, and Harry began to nudge him towards the door. Unfortunately, the werewolf did not seem to know his own strength, and his gentle nudges were almost enough to knock Draco over, and he staggered as he tried to stay standing from Harry's 'gentle' encouragements.

“Come on, you brute,” Draco said fondly as Harry began to whine impatiently at Draco's leisurely pace, “let's get out out of here before you completely destroy our cabin.”

Harry let out a short bark in agreement, and nosed at Draco's hand as though asking to be pet, but seemed to change his mind when Draco opened the cabin door and he darted outside, nearly bowling Draco over in the process.

 

Still clutching the door's handle, Draco watched as Harry raced over to the rest of the pack, his tail high and wagging, while he went up to each pack member and inspected them for injury, before moving onto the next one. All the while, a little tawny-brown wolf pup followed him diligently, yipping and growling as though he was asking for attention. Harry ignored him while he inspected the rest of the pack, before he finally turned around and nuzzled the pup affectionately.

“That must be Teddy,” Draco muttered to himself as he watched, smiling faintly, though with a hollow sort of feeling in his chest at the same time. He'd never felt so separated from Harry, and the realization that they were so divided by something as integral as _species_ did not fully register until that moment, as he gazed across the grassy expanse to his new family, barking, howling, playing, and running around the space with clear expressions of joy upon their faces as they tumbled about the grass like a group of excited golden retrievers.

At almost the same moment that his feeling of loss began to settle in his chest, the pack as one veered towards him, and quite suddenly Draco was surrounded by over a dozen werewolves.

Far from attack him however, Draco yelped as he was knocked to the ground by Teddy, and he was subjected to over twenty bear-sized wolves acting very much like excited puppies as they leapt on him joyfully, and offered him a tongue bath, which was both revolting and endearing at the same time.

Thankfully Harry was quick to step in—in the most literal sense as he stood over Draco in a clear show of dominance and possession, and all the other wolves were quick to disperse.

Save one.

Teddy sat, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he gazed at the alpha pair. His body was smaller than a full grown werewolf, but not quite as small as some of the other pups, either. He was close to an adult German shepherd in size, with limbs that seemed almost too long for his body, like a canine on the cusp of adolescence. He was gazing at Draco with a pure doggie smile, his fluffy tail thumping audibly against the grass while he shifted his gaze to Harry, his expression pleading. When Harry did not immediately allow him to approach, the pup began to whine, until at last Harry let out a soft huff and stepped aside, only to have Teddy leap at Draco excitedly, and with an audible grunt, Draco fell onto his back as the pup began to lick his face.

Draco laughed as he halfheartedly tried to fend Teddy off, while Harry sat down at his side and watched, his tail wagging faintly while Teddy continued to yip excitedly and nuzzle at Draco. Whenever get got too rough Harry was quick to intervene, nudging the pup to remind him to settle, and despite his excitement at his new friend, he would obey Harry's silent command without hesitation, before finally flopping down on the ground next to Draco, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted and gazed up at Draco with a strange sort of joyous reverence in his eyes—almost like how a child might look at an adored parent.

“I suppose I am really in the mum role, aren't I?” Draco asked as he leant against Harry's side, and reached out to scratch Teddy behind his ears. He yipped, while Harry growled softly, though it was something closer to a purr, and nuzzled Draco's cheek lightly.

“I think...” Draco began, but trailed off as he smiled and reached up to stroke Harry's fur, while he drew Teddy closer, as the pup fell onto his back gracelessly. Draco scratched his belly, while the other wolves continued to run and play around him in a scene of perfect peace. “No. I _know_ I'm going to be happy here.” Draco paused and turned to the huge black wolf as he said, “I love you, Harry.”

Teddy let out a small bark of agreement, while Harry rumbled with pleasure as he bowed forward to nuzzle Draco's cheek. Draco smiled at them both, his joy extending beyond the little family he had gained, and to the other wolves that were still running and playing in the distance as one final emotion settled in his chest, warming him as effectively as the ever-burning bonfire.

He was _home_.

 

The End

 


End file.
